


The Time Traveler's Heart

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine feels the tug in his gut, the slow/fast spin of the world as he tumbles out of his time and into another, landing in an awkward sprawl on the grass. He’s naked and shivering; the air is cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1.0 First meeting  
2001 (Kurt is 7, Blaine is 28) **  
  
Blaine feels the tug in his gut, the slow/fast spin of the world as he tumbles out of his time and into another, landing in an awkward sprawl on the grass. He’s naked and shivering; the air is cold.  
  
First clothes, then shelter.  
  
There is a bruise forming on his cheek and he reaches out to grab a sheet and a pair of jeans from a hanging clothesline. The grass is prickly underneath his feet.  
  
He’s in someone’s backyard.  
  
There is a small, startled gasp behind him as he finishes zipping up, and he hurriedly wraps the sheet around his body. A small boy with immaculate brown hair is standing in front of him, a somewhat shabby pink bear clutched in his hands.  
  
“Th-those are my dad’s jeans,” Kurt says, his blue eyes wide. “Who are you?”  
  
He’s a little scrap of a boy, barely seven-years-old, and his face is streaked with tears. Blaine remembers what he’s supposed to say. What Kurt told him he’d said, the day after his mother had died.  
  
“I’m Blaine.” He wonders, even as he mouths the words, if he can change anything. He’s been like this ever since he could remember, tugged from one time to another like a puppet on a string.  
  
He holds out his hand solemnly to shake, and Kurt takes it after a long moment.  
  
“My name is Kurt,” he says. “This is Teddy, my bear. My… mommy… gave him to me for my birthday.”  
  
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Kurt, and you, Teddy,” Blaine says. He pats the bear on its head, studying the small boy. “Are you okay, Kurt? You look a little sad.”  
  
Kurt shakes his head. “My mommy is gone,” he says. “And my daddy is sad. He cried a lot yesterday. I’m sad, too.”  
  
His lower lip quivers, his blue eyes filling with tears. “Will I ever see her again?”  
  
Blaine opens his mouth and closes it again, wanting nothing more than to reassure the boy that it will get easier, that his memories will fade with time. But he’s twenty-eight and Kurt is twenty-eight, (in his time at least), and he never loses the wistfulness in his expression whenever he talks about his mother.  
  
Blaine doesn’t want to lie, so instead he opens his arms and hugs Kurt, pressing a small kiss on top of his head.  
  
“I’m here for you, Kurt,” he says. “And I always will be.”  
  
Kurt presses his little face against Blaine’s chest, listening to his heart beat behind the sheet. He feels warm, safe, and loved. When he opens his eyes, he is holding his mom’s favourite floral bed sheet and his dad’s jeans are puddled on the ground.  
  
Blaine is gone, but Kurt’s still warm.  
  
  
**2.0 Closet Space  
2007 (Kurt is 13, Blaine is 21)  
**  
Years pass before Kurt sees Blaine again, and in his lucid moments he wonders if the man who’d held him as a child was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Teddy the bear has long since been abandoned, shoved to the back of his dresser to make room for his collection of scarves and vests. Kurt doesn’t take him out except on the direst of nights, when thoughts of his mother loom larger than normal and he wants nothing more than to catch the scent of her hair. (Her smell is long gone by now, but the memories remain.)  
  
He’s at his desk on a bright Monday afternoon, trying to finish his English homework. It’s boring, really, because he’s always been a smart kid and McKinley’s not the most challenging of schools.  
  
He finds his mind wandering, thoughts turning to Santana at gym class and how all the boys whistled whenever she walked past. He didn’t get the appeal, and he wondered if that made him weird. Santana had smirked at him when she caught his eye earlier that day, and Puck, ever the bully, had shoved him aside to get to her.  
  
Kurt sighs. Why are things never easy in his life? The only thing that Kurt stares at during gym are his shoes, and the other boys are so preoccupied with girls that Kurt thinks he should be, too.  
  
His train of thought breaks off when he hears a loud crash coming from his dresser. Eyes wide, he wonders if his shelf has given way under the weight of his budding coat collection. He dearly hopes not, and he runs to his walk-in and throws the door open.  
  
Only to gasp and stumble back abruptly, tripping over his backpack and ending up on his rump on the floor.  
  
There’s a naked man in his closet.  
  
There’s a _naked man_ in his _closet_.  
  
_Oh my god!_ Kurt scrambles to his feet, opening his mouth to yell for help, for his dad, for a baseball bat to protect himself from the vile, horrible…  
  
…kind-of-cute guy that is currently poking his head out from behind Kurt’s closet door.  
  
“Er…hi.” He gives Kurt a little wave.  
  
Kurt’s eyes widen in recognition. “Blaine?” he squeaks, ashamed to hear his voice crack.  
  
The man beams at him. “You remembered!” he says happily, carefully walking out of Kurt’s closet in nothing more than Kurt’s fashionably oversized winter coat.  
  
Kurt stares at the man’s easy smile, his heart beating a little quicker as Blaine takes another step towards him.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your coat,” he says. “I didn’t want to scandalize you, and I don’t think your jeans would have fit me.”  
  
Kurt swallows hard, trying not to stare at the open V of his collar. ‘Oh,’ he thinks. ‘So that’s what this feels like.’ And isn’t it so very ironic that it isn’t a pretty girl like Santana that takes his breath away?  
  
“I thought I made you up… My imaginary friend ‘Blaine’.” he finally manages to say. “How on earth did you get into my closet? I opened it a minute ago and you weren’t there.”  
  
Blaine pauses, perching himself on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “I’m not sure how much time I have before I go away again,” he says. “So I don’t want to beat around the bush. You’re going to see me a lot more often soon, so it’s better I tell you now.”  
  
He takes a breath, then continues. “Kurt, I’m a time traveller.”  
  
“And I’m the queen of England,” Kurt quips back, chuckling. Okay, so maybe that was kind of a lame joke, but whatever. Time travel? Seriously?  
  
Blaine gives him a wry smile. “I’m serious,” he says. “I’m from the future, your future, to be precise. I don’t know how I got this way, just that I’ve been… dropping in and out of time… since I was a kid. Sometimes I go back to before I was born, sometimes well into the future. I can’t control it.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Kurt says. “You’re a crazy person. There’s a crazy person in my bedroom. I’ve got to call my dad, please don’t kill me--!” He’s backing away from Blaine slowly, edging towards the door.  
  
“Wait, Kurt,” Blaine says, getting up as well. “Please, hear me out. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. Don’t you think it’s weird that I look the same as when I met you five years ago? Maybe even younger? I was twenty-eight when you first met me, but I’m twenty-one now.”  
  
Kurt purses his lips. Okay, so maybe this Blaine looked a bit younger than how he remembered him, but Kurt didn’t have a lot of experience judging people’s ages. When you’re seven, the world is divided into kids and grown-ups, and the Blaine he met was definitely a Grown-up.  
  
“Wait a minute,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “If you’re twenty-one now, how could you possibly know that you meet me when you’re twenty-eight? If what you’re saying is true, then that hasn’t even happened for you, yet.”  
  
Blaine nods. “Well, that’s the thing,” he says. “You keep a diary, don’t you? After today, you’re going to start keeping track of the times you meet me. It’s been a while since the first time, but you’re going to start seeing me more often. Sometimes older, sometimes younger, and when you meet me, the me that exists in your time, you’re going to show me this journal.”  
  
He takes a breath. “That lets me keep track of when things happen, so I know that I’m supposed to be prepared for… certain things.”  
  
Kurt frowns. “That’s an awful lot of work for me,” he says. “Are we friends? How old are you supposed to be?”  
  
“I’m actually your age,” Blaine laughs. “And yes, we become good friends.”  
  
He sits back down on Kurt’s bed, crossing his legs self-consciously. Kurt looks at the swell of his calf, his eyes drawn to the sexy slope of Blaine’s knees. He feels his cheeks redden, and he looks up to see Blaine smile understandingly.  
  
“It’s okay, you know,” he says, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “You’re thirteen, you’re probably feeling certain things that you’ve never felt before. It happens to everyone.”  
  
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Kurt wants to say. ‘Thirteen-year-old boys are supposed to stare at girls, not older men’s knees.’ Instead he says: “Sure, whatever.” He won’t meet Blaine’s eyes.  
  
“Hey,” Blaine says, leaning forward, taking one of Kurt’s hands. “It’s okay. Just be yourself, and everything will be okay. I’ll be there for you.”  
  
Kurt looks down at him, thinking that having an adult hold his hand should feel creepy and wrong. But it doesn’t. He opens his mouth to say so, but in an eye blink, Blaine is gone.  
  
Kurt looks around, dazed. “I guess he wasn’t kidding about the time travel,” he says. He picks up the empty coat on his bed, fingers lingering on the fabric as he goes to hang it up.  
  
He’s not sure what he’s feeling right now, and he doesn’t think he’s prepared to open that can of worms yet.  
  
But he knows that when he’s ready, Blaine will be there for him.  
  
And it’s enough.  
  
  
**3.0 It Gets Better  
2009 (Kurt is 15, Blaine is 5)  
**  
Kurt’s been having a terrible day. People at McKinley are cruel and he’s gotten slushied, thrown into a dumpster, and had his books tossed to the floor before second period. He’s tired, his shirt is still damp, and he wants nothing more than to go home and curl into a ball and sleep.  
  
He’s walking briskly across the parking lot with his sandwich bag, hoping that no one sees him and that he can eat his lunch in peace.  
  
His head is down and his eyes are on the ground and that’s why he almost misses the naked little boy hiding behind a car.  
  
Almost.  
  
His eyes widen as he backtracks, staring at the little boy who’s crouched behind an SUV.  
  
 “Excuse me?” he says, wide hazel eyes peering at him from behind messy curls. “I can’t find my mommy and daddy. Please help me?”  
  
Kurt’s mouth drops open and he quickly sheds his coat, throwing it around the boy’s shoulders and zipping it up. “Who’s your mommy and daddy?” he asks, trying to be gentle. “How did you get here?”  
  
The boy shrugs. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he admits. “I was in the park, and then here. Please help me?”  
  
Kurt nods and holds out his hand. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go find your parents, then.”  
  
He figures that the child meant the grade school playground not far from here, but that doesn’t explain his lack of clothing. “Are you hurt?” he asks, inspecting the boy. Aside from dirty feet from standing on the asphalt, he looks unharmed.  
  
“No,” he says shyly, sticking a grubby thumb in his mouth whilst holding on to Kurt with the other. “My name’s Blaine. What’s yours?”  
  
Kurt is so surprised that he drops the boy’s hand, but before he can answer he finds himself staring at his fallen coat on the ground.  
  
Wow. Blaine wasn’t kidding when he said he’d been traveling since he was a child.  
  
Suddenly, Kurt’s problems don’t seem so bad anymore.  
  
**4.0 Hello, Stranger  
2009 (Kurt is 15, Blaine is 17)  
**  
Kurt comes out to his father.  
  
When he realizes that his father doesn’t hate him, Kurt feels a spark inside him ignite and warm his entire body. He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding, stepping into his father’s arms for a bone-crushing hug.  
  
“I love you just the same,” his father says. “Thanks for telling me, Kurt.”  
  
Kurt nods, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath and returns to his vanity, grabbing a couple of tissues.  
  
At the door to his room, Burt pauses. “You’re sure, right?”  
  
Kurt lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, dad.”  
  
“Just checking.” His father grins, shrugging.  
  
And then he’s gone, clambering up the basement steps and shutting the door behind him. Kurt chuckles, softly at first, then louder as he realizes that he’s just Come Out to his father. He’ll have to thank Mercedes for making him tell his dad-- he knows he’ll have a friend for life.  
  
There’s a muffled thud on his bed and suddenly Blaine is there, naked and perfect and oh my _God_. Kurt’s brain shuts down immediately because it’s one thing to be gay and another thing entirely to have a _naked man_ in his _bed_ , and he’s sure as hell not ready for that.  
  
“Hey you,” Blaine says cheerfully, grabbing Kurt’s sheet and tying it around his waist. He walks over to give Kurt a peck on the cheek, brow furrowing when Kurt freezes.  
  
“Er,” Kurt manages, hand flying to his mouth when he realizes just how good a friend Blaine really is. “I don’t think we’re… I mean, that is to say, we haven’t… reached this point, yet.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes widen and he backpedals abruptly, nearly dropping his sheet in his haste to get away. “Oh my god,” he says. “I’m so sorry! It’s just that you look exactly the way you do in my time, and oh my god, how old are you? Please don’t tell me you’re twelve!”  
  
Kurt laughs, holding a finger to his lips. “Keep it down, my dad’s upstairs,” he says. “And I’m not twelve—I’m fifteen! I haven’t met you, yet. At least, not the you from my time. Does this mean I get to meet you soon?”  
  
He claps his hands in excitement as Blaine awkwardly shuffles his feet. “Not for a little bit,” he says. “I just turned seventeen. And I can’t believe I didn’t put it together… this isn’t even the room you had when we… er. In the future, I mean.”  
  
Kurt’s eyes narrow. “Not my room? You mean dad and I move?” he asks. “But why? We’ve lived here forever!”  
  
“You know I can’t answer that—“ Blaine holds up his hands and backs away, Kurt following.  
  
“What’s the point of time traveling if you can’t actually say anything?” he demands, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Blaine has the grace to look ashamed, but before he can respond he disappears, his sheet falling to the floor with a whisper.  
  
If Kurt didn’t know better, he’d think he did it on purpose.  
  
  
**5.0 Dalton  
2010 (Kurt is 16, Blaine is 16)  
**  
Ever since Kurt turned sixteen, he’s been waiting to meet Blaine—his Blaine—with baited breath. He keeps his eyes open whenever he goes out, making sure he’s always impeccably dressed even at the most menial of tasks.  
  
After all, he reasons, if he could meet the love of his life at any day, he’d damned well make sure that he looks great when he does.  
  
At school, the bullying gets worse. He gets shoved against lockers almost every day and he gets a multitude of bruises on his back and arms. He slides down to the floor during a particularly hard shove from Karofsky, fighting back tears.  
  
He’d thought that sixteen would be the best year of his life because it would be the year he meets Blaine, but so far all it’s been is a disappointment.  
  
Even Glee club hasn’t been providing him with the comfort he needs, as Mr. Shue once again refuses to let him sing with the girls and Puck tells him to make himself useful and go spy on their competition.  
  
So Kurt sets his jaw and does exactly that, driving all the way down to Dalton to check out their glee club. An all boy’s school? Kurt googles the academy and manages to pull together an approximation of their uniform from his wardrobe. It won’t fool anyone who looks too closely, but hopefully they’ll be civilized enough to let him off with a stern warning.  
  
He can’t help but gape as he walks down Dalton’s echoing halls, impressed by the finery in spite of himself. Students are rushing past him without giving him a second glance, and out of curiosity he calls to the first boy he can snag.  
  
“Excuse me!” he calls. “Can I ask you a question? I’m new here…”  
  
The boy turns around, and Kurt’s breath catches in his throat.  
  
“I’m Blaine,” he says.  
  
Kurt opens and closes his mouth, trying to clamp down on his emotions because, oh, his knees seem to be intent on turning to jelly and depositing him on the floor.  
  
“Kurt,” he manages, shaking the boy’s hand. ‘He doesn’t know you, yet,’ he tells himself. ‘Calm down before you scare him off.’  
  
He gathers himself enough to ask Blaine what’s going on, and is delighted to discover that the school’s glee club isn’t as reviled as it at McKinley. He’s trying to find a casual way to ask Blaine if he’ll show him where they’re performing, but before he knows it, the other boy takes him by the hand and leads him down a shortcut.  
  
It feels like the longest shortcut that Kurt’s ever taken, but he’s not about to complain.  
  
Blaine’s palm is warm in his, and Kurt wants to ask if he’s sure that he’s never met him before. If this is how Blaine treats total strangers, Kurt’s afraid to see how he’ll treat him once he finds out what they’ll be in the future.  
  
When they arrive at the hall, Kurt is dazzled by Blaine’s performance. He shakes his head as he realizes that Blaine is the lead singer, wondering why his love of music had never come up during their past meetings.  
  
But Blaine’s warm gaze holds his throughout the entire song, and Kurt feels a warm flush stain his cheeks. ‘Some things,’ he thinks. ‘Are better left as surprises.’  
  
\----------------------------------------

\---

It isn’t after Wes and David have left them alone that Kurt blurts out that he knows Blaine’s secret. He watches as Blaine freezes, hazel eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says carefully. “I don’t have any secrets.”

Kurt frowns, trying to remind himself that this Blaine has never met him before. Well, technically he did when he was five, but Kurt doubts that Blaine even remembers that. He reaches out, wanting to lay a comforting hand on Blaine’s arm, but the other boy withdraws it nervously. He looks like he’s ready to bolt.

“Please, just hear me out,” Kurt says. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I know about the traveling you do. You’ve been coming to me since I was seven, except you were older than you are now, so it hasn’t happened for you yet. But it will, I swear it will, and I just… trust me when I say that I’m so happy to see you. I feel like I’ve been looking for you forever.”

Blaine’s eyes have gotten wider by the second, and he shakes his head, trying to make sense of things. “I… I don’t know you,” he says, uncertainly. “You feel familiar somehow, but I’m pretty good with faces and I’m sure I’d remember yours. You have… nice eyes.”

He blushes when he says this, looking down at the tabletop. Kurt finds this amusing, as the versions of Blaine he’d met before had always been so sure of themselves. He finds that he likes ‘present’ Blaine… it makes him seem more real.

“Are we friends?” Blaine asks hesitantly, and Kurt purses his lips.

He’s fairly certain that they’re going to be more than friends in the near future, but he doesn’t want to spoil anything or change history or force something along that he shouldn’t. And really, at this point he hasn’t actually done anything with any version of Blaine, so…

“Yes,” Kurt says. “We’re friends. Good friends. I’d go so far as to say that you’re my best friend, in fact.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, relaxing minutely. “That’s… nice.”

He still looks a bit shaky, and Kurt reaches out to lay a hand on his arm. Blaine lets him.

“It’s kind of nice,” Kurt says, and when Blaine looks at him in askance, he shrugs. “You didn’t disappear at the end of the conversation.”

Blaine gives him a small smile. “Yeah, I could get used to not disappearing.”

 

**6.0 McKinley  
2010 (Kurt is 16, Blaine is 18)  
**  
The first thing that Blaine notices when he arrives is the thick steam that hangs in the air. He smiles thinly to himself, thinking that there are worse places to appear naked at than a boy’s locker room.

He pokes his head around the stall division, hoping that no one will notice the unfamiliar kid making a dash for the lockers. There are faint, flesh-toned blobs in the thick mist, and Blaine squints and hopes that he doesn’t somehow run into anyone he knows (or will know, because he doesn’t fancy having to explain who he is to a Finn that hasn’t met him yet).

Then the shower mist clears and he hears an unmistakably high-pitched laugh that could only belong to a member of the fairer sex.

Blaine freezes.

The thought of being caught naked in a woman’s locker room fills him with fear, his heart pounding as he realizes what one Sue Sylvester would do to him if she found him.

He swears softly under his breath, ducking down and plastering himself against the wall, praying that no one thinks to use the last stall. He waits as the minutes trickle by, letting out a breath of relief as he hears the last bit of chatter die down as the door slams shut.

He tip-toes out on the wet tiles, dismayed to find the regular lockers open and emptied. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He can’t just walk out of here naked, and he doesn’t know how long this visit will be. He kicks open a few of the lockers below to double check that there’s nothing in them, and as he surveys the room, he realizes that there are some lockers that still have padlocks on them.

The bright red Cheerio’s sign perched on top of the cheerleaders’ permanent lockers makes Blaine smirk, and he doesn’t feel very guilty when he breaks Santana’s locker combination. (Britney’s birthday, of course.)

The smirk falls from his face as he realizes what Santana’s extra clothes consist of, and he prays that he doesn’t run into Kurt today.

\---

Blaine strides down McKinley’s halls, trying to find a room with a calendar. Since Santana’s still a Cheerio, he figures it’s before Kurt transfers to Dalton. He gets more than a few stares as he walks past, and he tugs self-consciously at the collar of Santana’s too-tight sweater. He supposes that he should be glad she had a pair of loose jogging pants in there, but her red sweater is so tight across his chest that it looks like it was spray painted on him.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice is soft but carries, and Blaine winces inwardly before he turns around. Kurt’s mouth drops open as he takes in Blaine’s clothing.

“Oh my god,” he hisses, grabbing Blaine’s hand and dragging him into an empty classroom. “What happened to the uniform? I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly!”

Blaine smiles sheepishly. “Hey,” he says, trying not to give anything away. “My uniform is in the wash and I wanted to try out something new for a change.” His mind races as he tries to place when exactly he is. Kurt thinks he’s Blaine from his own time, which means he called him to come over for some reason. But if Kurt’s still at McKinley, then that would mean… Oh.

Karofsky.

Blaine’s eyes narrow, remembering that day when Kurt had sent him a frantic text message begging him to come see him. Blaine had gotten into his car and sped over, promptly disappearing as he’d pulled into a station to get some gas. He’d been furious at himself when he reappeared the day after, certain that Kurt hated him for not being there for him. He’d stopped short only when he’d checked his phone and discovered several grateful text messages from Kurt. Apparently he had managed to be there for Kurt after all.

A year later he’s thrown forward and meets Kurt at twenty-one. He fondly recalls the memory, telling Blaine that he was his knight-in-shining-armor, saving him from a neanderthal on the worst day of his life.

And today was apparently that day, and Blaine, at eighteen, was that knight.

So he squares his shoulders and pats Kurt on the back, trying not to give in to the urge to take him into his arms. At eighteen, he and Kurt have had a loving relationship for a couple of years. At sixteen, Kurt has barely received his first kiss, and probably won’t welcome Blaine pawing at him.

“It’s all right, Kurt,” he says, smiling a little. “I’m here to help. What do you say we find that guy and give him a talk?”

Kurt sniffles a bit, nodding.

They find Karosfky on the stairs outside, Blaine trying to keep his temper long enough to extend a helping hand. He reminds himself that he was once where Karofsky is at now, confused and afraid. Of course, he’d never felt the need to slam other people into lockers and throw slushies into their faces, but there you go.

He’s not surprised when Karofsky attempts to manhandle him, but before he can lift a hand to defend himself, Kurt steps up. He’s a little taller than Blaine and deceptively strong, and Blaine wonders if maybe future Kurt hadn’t exaggerated his part a bit.

Because this Kurt is strong and fierce and beautiful—he is his own Knight, and he takes Blaine’s breath away. Karofsky’s face is painted with anguish and rage; Blaine watches him go.

“Well, he’s not coming out any time soon,” he says a bit breathlessly, trying to straighten Santana’s sweater. “You were amazing, Kurt.”

But Kurt sits down on the steps and takes a huge, shaky breath. When Blaine asks him what’s wrong, he bites his lip. “I’d never been kissed before,” he says. “And that… that wasn’t how I wanted it to be.”

He doesn’t add that he’d wanted it to be from Blaine.

And it’s all Blaine can do not to take him into his arms and press a thousand kisses to his lips. He has to remind himself that they’re not there yet, feeling like so much of his life has been spent waiting for things to happen. He’s not even sure if he believes in fate or altering timelines or whatever, but for whatever reason, he knows that he doesn’t want to screw anything up.

He forces a smile. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but Blaine holds on to the fact that they’ll be together soon.

 

**7.0 Original Songs  
2011 (Kurt is 16, Blaine is 17)  
**  
Kurt preoccupies himself with Pavaroti’s casket, feeling strangely adrift. His birthday is in a couple of weeks and Blaine’s just had his, and he wonders if he’s missed his cue. He eyes his journal, wondering if he’s horribly misread the situation. Maybe Blaine really is just a friend—his older selves had never explicitly said that they were together, though there was that time when he was fifteen that Blaine had kissed his cheek.

But, he reasons, Blaine holds his hand and sings him songs and ruffles his hair sometimes, and a peck on the cheek isn’t that far off, is it? Of course, there had been the small fact that Blaine seemed completely at ease with his nudity around Kurt, but he could easily attribute that to the fact that Blaine was naked all the freaking time.

If Kurt is honest with himself, there’s no reason for him to think that Blaine is anything other than a really, really good friend. He’s been nursing a crush on the mysterious stranger who’s been popping in and out of his life since he was seven, and the fact that he’s magnified their relationship into some eighteenth century romance is a testament to his naiveté.

At seventeen, Blaine is a wonderful person and a great friend. Kurt just has to accept the fact that he doesn’t like him that way, and move on with his life.

He sighs again, picking up his tweezers and trying to decide what crystal to put in the center of the box. Maybe the quartz?

“What’s that?” Blaine’s voice is quiet as he walks into the common room.

Kurt looks up, offering him a small smile. Speak of the devil. “I’m decorating Pavaroti’s casket.”

Blaine smiles back. “Well, finish up,” he says. “I have the perfect song for our number and we should practice.”

“Do tell.” Kurt picks up on Blaine’s nervous air almost immediately, and he raises a slim brow as the conversation turns to song choices and other such trivialities.

Things have been a little strained between them lately and Kurt has only himself to blame. His outburst about Blaine getting all the solos had been a manifestation of his deeper frustrations with the other boy, but he knows that Blaine doesn’t understand that.

How can he? He’s the wrong Blaine from the right time, and Kurt can’t put the burden of his expectations on him.

He purses his lips, blurting out the first question that comes to his mind. “Why did you pick me to sing that song with?” He doesn’t expect much of an answer; ever since he’d met this present-day Blaine, he’d realized that singing was such a huge part of his life. He’d probably just taken Kurt’s words to heart when he championed McKinley’s more varied style.

So no one is more surprised than he when Blaine pauses, straightening up as if to steel himself.

“Kurt,” be begins. “There is a moment when you say to yourself, ‘oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.’”

Kurt gasps softly when Blaine reaches out, laying a hand on top of his. “Watching you do ‘Blackbird’ this week… that was the moment for me,” he continues. “About you. You move me, Kurt. And this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Kurt lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding when Blaine moves towards him, carefully cupping his face before moving to capture his lips with his own. The kiss is sweet and full of promise.

It’s Kurt’s real first kiss, the only kiss that matters, and he realizes that this is the moment he’s been waiting for his entire life. Hesitantly, he reaches up, touching Blaine’s cheek and marvelling at the fact that he’s real, and warm, and *still there*.

Blaine leans back, dazed. “We should… we should practice,” he says, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Kurt smiles. “I thought we were.”

Their second kiss makes the very tips of his toes tingle, and he’s almost relieved when Blaine disappears a moment later. He picks up Blaine’s blazer, rubbing the fabric against his cheek.

“See you soon,” he whispers. He knows exactly where Blaine has gone, and he knows he’s going to be back in just a few minutes.

He’s almost tempted to hide the clothes so he can enjoy the view when Blaine reappears.

Almost.

 

**8.0 Prom  
2012 (Kurt is 18, Blaine is 18, Blaine is 28)  
**  
His Senior Prom is as wonderful as Kurt could have ever imagined. Blaine had moved to McKinley at the start of the year, and his disappearances had dwindled to a handful of moments. They’re able to live a somewhat normal life, surrounded by good friends and family.

The only time they hit a snag is on the night of the prom itself. Blaine asks to use the bathroom when he picks Kurt up, wanting to check his hair. It isn’t long before there’s a dull thud and Kurt fearfully opens the door to discover that Blaine has, indeed, disappeared.

He’s holding Blaine’s suit and wondering what to do when Blaine reappears outside his window, naked and shivering in the cold night air.

Kurt lets him in, realizing that it’s not his Blaine that stands before him, but rather a Blaine that’s ten years his senior.

“I’m twenty-eight,” Blaine says in a stage whisper, shoving his legs into his slacks. Kurt tries not to stare. Blaine looks amazing at this age, maybe even better than he does now. “I know it’s not what you had in mind, but…”

“It’s okay,” says Kurt, reaching out and touching the curve of Blaine’s jaw. He’s got some stubble going on and his hair is a little different, and Kurt hopes his father won’t notice. “You look amazing.”

Blaine blushes. “I saw you last week as a seven-year-old,” he laughs. “This feels _really_ weird.”

Kurt shakes his, wrapping the other man in a warm embrace. “I’m just happy that it’s you,” he says.

They leave shortly thereafter, and if Carol notices that Blaine has suddenly grown a five o’clock shadow in ten minutes, she doesn’t say anything.

It isn’t long before they’re at prom, ignoring the raised eyebrows and moving to the dance floor. A slow song has started, and Kurt rests his cheek against Blaine’s as they move together, eyes fluttering shut. He and Blaine had agreed that tonight would be the night they’d have sex for the first time. They’d done other things before, but they’d both wanted this to be special, something to remember for the rest of their lives.

Thinking back, Blaine remembers that he had rented a hotel room but given Kurt the key card for safekeeping. He wonders if Kurt is nervous.

At twenty-eight, Blaine already knows how this night will end, but Kurt doesn’t. Is he worried that Blaine will be older when they have sex for the first time? Blaine pulls back enough to steal a kiss, and Kurt’s eyes shine in the darkness.

“I love you,” he whispers. “All of you.”

And Blaine kisses him again, long and deep, not caring who watches them.

There is a familiar tug at his stomach, and he smiles against Kurt’s lips.

“Meet me at the hotel room,” he whispers.

He flickers in and out of existence as he staggers into the men’s bathroom. He shuts the stall door just as he disappears.

 ------------------------

When eighteen-year-old Blaine reappears, he finds himself in an unfamiliar hotel room. He hopes to god that he’s in the room he rented with Kurt, because if it turns out to be someone else’s room, he’s in for a very embarrassing conversation. His eyes fall on the room number on the phone. No such luck, but at least he’s on the same floor.

He pads to the closet and pulls on a robe, not bothering to find slippers before he departs. He locates their room easily enough, ringing the doorbell.

“Blaine!” Kurt exclaims, opening the door and pulling him inside. “Is it you?” he asks, hands on his hips. “You totally disappeared on me earlier… I had to check all the stalls before I found your suit!”

“It’s me,” Blaine laughs, leaning in to kiss Kurt breathless. “Thanks for grabbing my stuff. I’m sorry that I missed prom.”

“Wait a few years,” Kurt replies archly. “I rather enjoyed myself with an older you.”

“That’s good,” Blaine says. “And hey, I’m back for the important part, right?”

He pulls Kurt close and nuzzles his neck, mouthing kisses along his throat. “I missed you,” he whispers.

He helps Kurt out of his jacket and tie, carefully manoeuvring him to the bed. They topple on to it gracelessly, Blaine’s robe slipping off his shoulder. He somehow manages to unbutton Kurt’s shirt and pull down his pants at the same time, and he makes a strangled sound when Kurt sucks a hickey into the side of his neck.

Kurt’s hands are trembling as he undoes the belt on Blaine’s robe. It isn’t long before the only thing between them is Kurt’s boxers and they roll together on the bed, Blaine resting lightly on top of him.

“I’m so happy,” Kurt whispers. “I’m so happy that at least in this, we’re each other’s firsts.”

Blaine blushes and pushes himself up a bit, leaning awkwardly on an elbow. “Er,” he begins, sounding a bit strained. “About that…”

Kurt’s eyes widen, abruptly taking his hands away from Blaine’s sides. “Oh my god,” he breathes. “Have you done it with someone else before?”

“I’ve had sex before,” Blaine confirms, and he gives a startled yell as Kurt practically shoves him off of him. He has to grab Kurt’s hand to prevent him from leaping off the bed. “Wait! It was with you. Well… _future_ you.”

“What?” Kurt hisses, hands on his slim hips. He is illogically, insanely jealous. He knows that he has no reason to be, but the thought is there all the same. “When did this happen?”

Blaine sits up nervously, pulling his robe on and hurriedly retying it. “Well, remember that time when we were seventeen and I disappeared for like a week?”

Kurt frowns. “You said you dropped in on me in the future and spent it watching television at our apartment,” he says. “Oh my god, were you having sex the entire time?!”

Blaine ducks as Kurt whacks him with a pillow. “I didn’t mean to,” he protests. “It’s just that you were there and I wasn’t and you said you missed me a whole lot, and I mean… it’s not cheating if it’s you!”

“We were supposed to do this together, Blaine. This one thing, and you couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough for us to share this moment?!” Kurt hisses, squeezing the pillow in his hands like he wishes it were Blaine’s neck. He looks ridiculously hot, clad in nothing but boxers and his best bitch face. Blaine tries not to moan.

“How old was I?”

Blaine mumbles something under his breath that suspiciously sounds like “late”, and Kurt’s eyes widen. “Did you just say TWENTY-EIGHT?” he shouts. “Oh my god, I’m a child molester. I grow up and turn into a child molester.”

His stomach heaves as he turns away from Blaine, running into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Oh my god, Blaine,” he moans, sliding down the tiled floor and holding his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry. How could you… how can you let me touch you after what I did to you?”

From the other side of the door, he hears Blaine sigh. “Kurt, baby… I was seventeen, not twelve. And if it makes you feel any better, it was a couple of weeks before my eighteenth birthday.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d feel guilty and freak out, and I just… I just considered it an early birthday present, that’s all.” Blaine tries the door. “Please let me in?”

Kurt sorrowfully opens the door, his full lower lip jutting out in a horrible pout. Blaine sighs and leans in to kiss him.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, okay?” he says. “I really, really enjoyed it. I mean, I couldn’t sit down for a couple of days after, but trust me when I say that it was so worth it.”

“And look at it this way,” he continues, leading Kurt to the bed. “At least one of us knows what we’re doing, now.”

Kurt sighs. “I suppose you’re right,” he admits. “I just… I really wanted to be your first, Blaine.”

“And you are,” Blaine says, stepping in and kissing him deeply. “No matter how old or how young you are, you’ll always be my first.”

Kurt sighs and lets him push him gently onto the bed once more, wondering if he’ll ever get some semblance of normalcy in this relationship.

As their kisses grow more urgent and Blaine’s hands wander lower, Kurt’s eyes close.

Who needs normalcy when he has Blaine?

 

**9\. Snowflakes Melt**   


**2013 (Kurt is 19, Blaine is 17, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 19)  
**  
The first time Blaine can remember disappearing is when he was seven. He has vague recollections from when he was younger still, but seven is the first actual, solid memory that he has of his travels.

He remembers being with his mother at the park, laughing as he runs to the brightly-colored tube tunnels and scurrying in. He goes into one end and exits the other, and he wraps his arms around himself and shivers at a sudden gust of wind.

Snow crunches under his bare feet and they *hurt*. His nose turns red and he sees his warm breath spiral from his mouth. He whirls around to go back to the tube, but there’s nothing there, just trees with branches full of snow as far as his eyes can see.

Seconds feel like hours in the freezing air, and he appears minutes later on his own bed and his own time. His mother and father are speaking in frantic whispers, and when he emerges from his room, they wrap him in their arms and sob with relief.

He recounts this story to Kurt, who listens with wide eyes. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “You must have been so scared.”

Blaine shrugs. “I was,” he says. “I was scared for a long time. I reappear at certain places that mean something to me, to my… ‘timeline’, if you will. But I don’t always know the significance of these places, and sometimes it’s just…”

He shrugs again. “They aren’t the safest places to appear defenceless in.”

“Is my journal helping you at all?” Kurt asks. “I’ve been keeping it since I was thirteen and I’ve been pretty faithful about listing down all of our encounters.”

Blaine nods. “It has,” he says. “Kurt… my Kurt, showed it to me yesterday. It’s been helping with the moments I’ve jumped to in the past, but not so much with the future.”

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s been happening less now that we’re together,” he continues. “It’s kind of like I’m… happy to be where I am. It’s like you’re keeping me grounded.”

Kurt chuckles. “That’s a romantic way of putting it,” he says. “And if it’s true, then I’m glad. I’m not sure how long this visit will be, but… do you want a glass of water or something?”

“Sure,” Blaine grins crookedly. “I’m supposed to be taking a history test right now, but hanging out with a college guy is much more fun.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, reaching over to tousle Blaine’s curly hair before going into the kitchen to fetch him something to drink.

When he comes back, he finds the robe he’d given Blaine to wear strewn across his couch. “Guess this one was a short visit,” he sighs, stooping to pick it up.

“…Kurt.” The voice that greets him as he straightens sounds raspy, _wrong_. Kurt turns to find Blaine on the floor, shaking hard as he wraps his arms around himself.

“Blaine,” Kurt gasps. He runs to the other man, throwing the robe that the younger Blaine had just been wearing across his shoulders. _Was that blood?_ Kurt pales.

“Oh god, what happened?” he asks urgently, wrapping his arms around Blaine. “Please stay with me, baby. Don’t go, please!”

“D-don’t be scared,” Blaine whispers. He turns his face into Kurt’s cardigan and inhales deeply, as if trying to memorize his scent. “It’s okay, Kurt…”

“What happened? Where did you go?” Kurt asks, pressing a frantic kiss on Blaine’s brow. “Tell me so I can warn you… Blaine!”

But the other man has flickered out of existence once more, and Kurt is left clutching an empty, blood-stained robe.

That night, when his Blaine comes home, Kurt presses him to the wall and kisses him until they’re both panting and breathless and clutching at each other.

“Wow,” Blaine laughs. “I must’ve done something awesome today to deserve that.”

Kurt nods, not trusting himself to speak, and pulls Blaine to their bedroom. They make love passionately, fingers entwined, breath mingled.  
Kurt tries to banish the memory with his lips and teeth and tongue on his lover’s skin, but it haunts him even as Blaine falls asleep in his arms.

Kurt _aches_.

 

**10\. Family  
2014 (Kurt is 20, Blaine is 20)  
**  
Kurt drums his fingers across the counter, waiting patiently for Blaine to reappear. He flips through a magazine, idly checking out the gossip column to see if Rachel has made the news. She’s performing in some off Broadway musical, and is popular enough and talented enough to make the fourth page of the “celebrity spotting” segment.

“Hah,” Kurt chuckles, amused at seeing her small photo on the spread, hanging on to the arm of a devilishly handsome actor by the name of Jonathan Groff. They’re laughing and Rachel is tossing her hair. “Still going after the most flaming of homosexuals,” Kurt mutters under his breath. He remembers seeing that guy at a gay club he’d sung at, once. “Some things never change.”

Mercedes rings him a few minutes later, wanting to catch up on his latest gig. She’d stayed in Lima for college while Kurt and Blaine had puttered off to NYU, and though her calls aren’t as frequent as they used to be, they still carry the same affection.

“How are you guys doing?” she asks. “Are you keeping your boy busy?”

Kurt snorts. “I do when he’s actually around,” he says. “He’s been… traveling a lot, lately.” He knows Mercedes won’t get the real meaning behind his words, so he chooses them carefully. “He has to leave a lot because of his part-time job… he can’t really help where they send him.”

He can almost hear Mercedes roll her eyes. “That’s no excuse,” she points out. “You have to support your man, Kurt. Make the moments you have together count!”

“I suppose,” Kurt sighs. “It’s just hard. I feel like he’s hardly ever around any more.”

There is a loud crash coming from the bedroom, and Kurt frowns. “Speak of the devil,” he says. “Mercedes, I have to go. Blaine just got in, and I’ve got to talk to him a bit.”

Mercedes’s voice is tinny as she says goodbye, and Kurt ends the call and tosses his phone on the counter. “Blaine?” he calls. “Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” Blaine snaps, shoving his legs into his trousers. There’s a cut on his cheek and his eye is swelling with the beginnings of an impressive bruise.

Kurt’s eyes widen. “Are you okay?” he asks, going to his bedside drawer and pulling out his first aid kit. He keeps them in every corner of their apartment.

“What happened?” he asks. He dabs at the cut on Blaine’s cheek, wincing in sympathy as the other man hisses.

“Couldn’t find proper clothes,” Blaine replies, shaking his head. “I ended up running through Westerville High’s parking lot in jean shorts and a pink tank top—the local jocks were _not_ impressed.”

Kurt shakes his head in disbelief. “Damn it,” he says. “After all this time, we’re still running from people like that…”

“Yeah well, I didn’t run this time.” Blaine frowns. “Hence the black eye.”

“You what?” Kurt steps back, biting his lip. “Oh Blaine, you shouldn’t have done that… you could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

“I’m tired of running,” Blaine responds. “And I got a couple of punches in, myself. Anyway, I disappeared before they could do much damage… I think they’re going to need therapy for group hallucinations.”

“It’s not just that,” Kurt protests. He fetches a bag of peas from the freezer, holds it to Blaine’s injured eye. “What if someone recognized you? What if they pick on the you from that time because of that?”

“They gave me enough hell just for being who I was,” Blaine returns. “I doubt seeing some older guy in drag is going to make it any worse for me.”

He nudges Kurt away and holds the bag of peas himself, shaking his head. “Why are you so down on me, anyway?” he asks. “What’s done is done, Kurt. It’s not like I can change history.”

“But—“ Kurt opens his mouth to argue, but Blaine cuts him off with a wave.

“Look, I know you’re worried, babe,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I just need some air, okay?”

He puts the peas back in the freezer and shrugs on his jacket as he walks out, leaving Kurt sputtering behind him.

 

**11\. And After  
2016 (Kurt is 22, Blaine is 24, Blaine is 22)  
**  
Kurt runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat as he prepares for his first set of the night. It’s a weeknight gig at a small bar and it doesn’t pay much but at least he still gets to sing. It’s his final year at NYU and after he turns in his thesis on Monday, it’s all over.  
Another chapter in his life will have passed, and he almost wants to ask Blaine if he knows what their future will hold.

He’s applied for a few low-level positions at minor fashion labels, but so far he hasn’t heard back from any of them. He’s been fretting about finding work, not sure if his designs are good enough to hack it in the real world.

Anya, his accompanying guitarist nudges him in the arm. “Ready?” she asks. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

Kurt nods, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about life after graduation,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about it.

He brings the microphone to his lips, grinning at the crowd. “Hey everybody,” he says. “My name’s Kurt, and this here’s Anya. Tonight’s for the lovebirds out there, and if you’ve got your partner with you, grab their hand and don’t let go.”

He winks, takes a drink of water, and begins to sing.

 

\---------------------------

 

Kurt has a drink at the bar at the end of his set, taking a long swig of the beer that Tony hands him. “Nice one,” he remarks, and Kurt shrugs.

“People like silly love songs,” he says.

“Nah, you were really good,” Tony responds. “Anya too. You should cut a record or something, sell it during your gigs.”

“Yeah right,” Kurt laughs, turning away.

“He’s right, you know,” a friendly voice interrupts, warm breath a little too close for comfort. “You were great out there, Kurt.”

Kurt turns around in surprise, eyes widening in recognition as he beholds the young man in front of him. “Jeff?” he exclaims. “Oh my god, what are you doing in New York?”

Of all the places he’d expected to see an old Dalton graduate, a random club in the big apple isn’t it.

The other man laughs, pulling him into a brief hug. “Interviewing for a job,” he says. “It’s nothing big, just a gig for a small magazine. My parents pulled some strings…”

He blushes a bit at the admission, shrugging. “So how are you? You’re still with Blaine, right?”

Kurts nods, grinning. Blaine still keeps up with some of the Dalton boys on Facebook, but seeing as Kurt was only there for a semester, he himself wasn’t too up-to-date on their individual lives.

He’d always liked Jeff, though, and he was sorry they’d lost touch over the years.

“So where are you staying?” he asks, and Jeff names a hotel not far from their apartment.

“It’s a crazy city,” Jeff laughs. “I went to UCLA after Dalton, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give New York a try. But the opening presented itself and I just wanted to see if I could hack it.”

“Tell me about it,” Kurt huffs. He and Blaine had been here for four years and he still wasn’t used to all the hustle and bustle.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Jeff says, and he signals the bartender. “What are you having?”

“Another beer’s fine, thanks,” Kurt drinks the last of the contents of his bottle, handing it to Tony in exchange for a new one. “So tell me what you’ve been up to!”

 

\--------

 

Four beers and two shots of tequila later, Kurt walks a shaky Jeff out the door of the club. He hasn’t drunk that much in a while and his tolerance isn’t what it used to be, but judging from the way Jeff is walking, he’s worse off than even Kurt is.

He puts him in a cab and doubts that he’ll manage to get back to his hotel this way, so Kurt climbs in after him and gives the driver his address. He’ll get Jeff upstairs and sober him up a bit before sending him on his way. Blaine will be home soon, and he’ll probably enjoy seeing Jeff again.

They get back to his apartment a little after eleven, and Jeff is stumbling along with Kurt’s support.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls, but there’s no answer and his suspicions are confirmed when he sees a crumpled heap of clothing by the door.

“Sorry,” he tells Jeff. “I think Blaine might be out late tonight. What do you say we get some coffee in you?”

Jeff makes an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat, and Kurt dumps him on the couch. “God, you’re heavy,” he says.

He puts the coffee on, drumming his fingers against the counter as he waits for the water to come to a boil. He’s feeling more than a little relaxed himself, and he snaps out of his reverie only when the pot begins to whistle.

“Here,” he says, shoving a cup in Jeff’s hands. “Drink that, and don’t even think about spilling it on my couch.”

Jeff sighs, bringing the steaming cup to his lips and obediently sipping. His eyes are unfocused, taking in their apartment before coming to rest on the many pictures on the mantelpiece.

“You and Blaine have been together a long time,” he says softly.

Kurt nods. “Yeah, since Dalton,” he says. “We only really considered the universities we both passed at.”

“Yeah,” Jeff sighs. “Nick and I did, too.’

‘I got into Princeton but he didn’t, and I ended up going to UCLA because that’s where he ended up. My dad was really angry when I turned Princeton down.”

“Things didn’t work out?” Kurt guesses, since Jeff doesn’t look very happy.

“They didn’t,” he confirms, his voice shaking a bit. “We were together until a few months ago. His dad’s been really uncool about the gay thing and he’d been putting the pressure on Nick. He always said that he’d choose me if it ever came down to it, but…”

Jeff puts down the mug unsteadily, putting his head in his hands. “I guess it just became too much,” he says. “I mean, we’ve only ever really been with each other. I guess he wanted to see what the world was like, and it helped when his dad offered to bankroll him if he dumped me.”

“Ouch.” Kurt winces in sympathy, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Jeff’s shoulder.

“I mean, he didn’t even try to fight for it,” he says. “It’s like… it’s like he just got tired of me, or something.”

Kurt nods, thankful once again that his father had been so accepting of him. His relationship with Blaine had been fairly trouble-free, with the only snag being that Blaine had a bad habit of falling out of time every now and then.

Jeff leans back abruptly, trapping Kurt’s arm under him on the couch. Kurt clears his throat. “Er, Jeff, my arm’s kind of…” he begins, but Jeff looks pretty shattered right now, eyes moist with unshed tears.

“It’s like a bad dream,” he confesses. “It’s not like I even want this job, I just wanted to be as far away from Nick as I could be. I’m so out of it and I just… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Kurt opens his mouth to say something placating, but when he turns his head to face Jeff, he’s surprised to note that Jeff has made it unnecessary to turn his head because he’s actually quite near. So near in fact, that his face is practically smushed up against Kurt’s.

Kurt is so surprised that he doesn’t react immediately to the fact that his very drunk friend has decided to use his tongue to check if Kurt has any cavities. It takes him a second to realize that this is happening, and then he puts his hand on Jeff’s shoulder, trying to brace himself to push him off.

Dimly he hears the door to the bedroom opening, and his eyes widen as he realizes that this. Does. _Not._ Look. Good.

“Kurt?” Blaine is standing there in his robe, eyes wide as Kurt pushes Jeff off of him and scrambles to his feet. “Jeff?? What the hell is going on here?”

Jeff blinks blearily. “Blaine?” he says. “Kurt said you were out…”

And if there’s one thing that Jeff could have said to make a bad situation worse, that was pretty much it. “Shut up, Jeff,” Kurt hisses, and makes as if to reach for Blaine, but the look in the other man’s eyes stops him cold.

There’s betrayal there, and a hurt so palpable that it pains Kurt to even meet his gaze. He reaches for Blaine, but the other man is already running. He throws open their apartment door and turns a corner, and by the time Kurt has reached him, he’s nothing but a puddled robe.  
Kurt picks up the robe and walks slowly back to his apartment, where Jeff is standing frozen.

“Time to go,” Kurt says in a clipped voice, taking him by the arm and practically pulling him outside.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Jeff babbles, stumbling a little as they arrive at the curb. “I don’t know why I did that—I was drunk and I didn’t—I’m really sorry, Kurt.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt says. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

He helps Jeff into the first cab that stops, giving the driver the name of his hotel. “It was sort of good to catch up with you, Jeff, but I hope you understand when I say that I hope I never see you again,” he says. “I hope you and Nick work it out somehow.”

Jeff nods, still mumbling apologies as the cab driver pulls away from the curb.

Kurt watches until the cab’s gone, bringing his hand up to his head and massaging his temples. He couldn’t tell how old Blaine was earlier, but he knows that it can’t have been in the past because there’s no way Blaine wouldn’t have mentioned that if he’d seen it.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s walking out of their building, clad in the clothes Kurt had found in a pile earlier. “What are you doing out here? I just got back and the apartment was empty.”

Kurt takes a deep breath. “Blaine,” he says. “We need to talk.”

 

\--------------------------

 

Kurt tells him the whole story, not leaving out any of the gory details. He tells him about running into Jeff at the bar, about having to bring him home so he wouldn’t end up a smear on the sidewalk, and about the kiss. He also tells him about the part where an older Blaine walks in on them, hurriedly adding that he was about to shove Jeff off even if he hadn’t come in.

Blaine listens quietly to the whole story, brow furrowing more and more as Kurt gets through it.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Kurt finishes, reaching out to grasp Blaine’s hand. “Please don’t hate me forever, I really didn’t mean to do anything.”  
Blaine doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but Kurt can see the muscles of his jaw working.

“If I hadn’t walked in,” Blaine finally says, as if choosing his words very carefully. “Would you have told me what happened?”

Kurt’s a little taken aback by the question, eyes widening as he considers the possibility. “I…” he stutters, and his pause speaks for him.

“I can forgive the fact that you got drunk with some guy,” Blaine says, his eyes impossibly sad. “I can even forgive that you brought him back to our apartment. And because I love you so damned much, I can probably forgive that you let him kiss you.”

Kurt opens his mouth to protest, but Blaine raises a hand, cutting him off. “But what I can’t forgive is the thought that you wouldn’t have been honest with me if I haven’t caught you,” he says. “That’s… that’s what our entire relationship is _about_ , Kurt. There’s no one I trust more than you.”

Kurt grabs for his hand, but Blaine pulls away. “I think,” he says. “I think we should take some time off.”

He turns on his heel and walks off, shutting the door quietly behind him. Kurt is stunned into silence, unable to do little more than stare at the door to their apartment, willing Blaine to walk back through it.

But he never does.

 

**12\. Learning to Live  
2017 (Kurt is 23, Blaine is 28)  
**  
Kurt has come to the conclusion that the fates hate him.

He tries valiantly to forget about Blaine and work on his career, but day after day he sits at his tiny desk and draws prospective designs for someone else’s label, and he realizes that he’s forgotten what happiness feels like.

Blaine hadn’t come back the night he’d broken up with him, and he hadn’t come back the day after. A full week had passed before Kurt had worked up the nerve to call Blaine’s mother, and she’d replied that he was safe but staying with them at their Westerville home.

Blaine had apparently turned in all of his final papers and then hopped on a plane back to Ohio, leaving Kurt to go out of his mind with worry. He’d called Blaine and they’d had a stilted conversation where Blaine said he didn’t want to see him anymore, and that their time off had morphed into a fairly definitive end.

“Is this what you really want?” Kurt had whispered, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry, Blaine. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Kurt,” Blaine had sighed. “I just… it’s too hard. I’ve been so dependent on you and your journals, and I need to, I don’t know. Learn how to live like this. Without your help. I just… I need to be away from you right now.”

And that had been that. Kurt couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his anger over the errant kiss, but Blaine had refused to answer any more of his calls afterward.

So Kurt had graduated, moved apartments, picked up the pieces of his life, and tried to move forward.

It’s a Tuesday when he makes himself soup for dinner, cutting a hunk of bread and spending a good thirty minutes staring at it. He hasn’t seen Blaine in months.

There is a soft pop behind him when he realizes that he’s not alone, and he turns around and discovers that Blaine is on the floor, shaking. He gasps, immediately grabbing a blanket and wrapping the man in it, helping him to sit up.

“Blaine, are you hurt?” he asks urgently. “You have to tell me so I can help you.”

“C-cold,” Blaine says, teeth chattering. There are bruises on his torso and back, purple and angry, looking far too dark to be anything but deliberate.

 “What’s happened to you?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Blaine and trying to lead him to the couch. “Where did those bruises come from?”

Blaine shakes his head, breathing labored and leaning on Kurt heavily. “Fell. I came to in your old backyard,” he explains. “Don’t know what year. Someone else bought that place—not the friendliest people. When I was running away, I fell. Couldn’t find clothes and it was snowing and for a minute, I…”

He swallows hard. “I didn’t know if I’d ever find my way back to you.”

Kurt’s eyes fill with tears. His heart clenches at the thought of Blaine hurting, but he takes heart in the fact that this Blaine looks older and he apparently still loves him.

“You’ll always find your way,” Kurt sobs, and Blaine’s arms go around him, strong and comforting.

They remain that way until Blaine disappears again, and Kurt is left holding nothing but an empty blanket.

 

**13\. Somewhere In Time  
(Blaine is 22, Blaine is 28)  
**  
Blaine is following a trail of blood.

It’s freezing cold but the sun is shining high in the afternoon sky. The snow has fallen thickly on the ground, and the bright red drops against the blanket of white stand out brightly.

Blaine half hopes that they belong to a wounded animal, but he sees very human footprints stamped on the snow, keeping perfect time with the droplets. Each step he takes feels like a shard of ice going through the soles of his feet, but he keeps going forward, dread building in his chest.

He knows he should find clothes and some sort of shelter, but there’s neither here, so he follows the blood.

The tracks end abruptly at the base of a tree, and he can make out a shoulder pressed against the far side of the tree. As Blaine approaches, he realizes that the shoulder is covered in red, tiny rivulets sliding down the arm and mingling with the snow.

The man is whispering something over and over, and blood drains from Blaine’s face as he realizes that it’s a name.

_Kurt._

He braces himself on the tree and turns to look, but he already knows that it’s his own face that will greet him. The only thing that he isn’t prepared for is how _young_ he looks, and he realizes that he’s just seen himself on the brink of death.

He disappears before the other man notices his presence, and Blaine tumbles back to 2016, back to his apartment with Kurt where everything is safe and warm.

The image of himself, a handful of years older and dying in the middle of a forest at winter, shakes him to the very core. He’s frightened, so frightened at the thought of death looming so closely, but more than that, he’s frightened for Kurt.

It would destroy him, he realizes. Not now, not so soon, not while they’re so very much in love.

He drops his head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. He doesn’t doing a thing to stop them.

He knows what he has to do.

 

**14\. Come What May  
2018 (Kurt is 24, Blaine is 24)  
**  
Their next meeting is entirely by chance.

Kurt manages to get some time off and goes home for Christmas, eyeing his family’s house with a vague sort of nostalgia. Finn is there with some girl named Jessica, and he introduces her to Kurt brightly.

Kurt shakes her hand, wondering how long this one will last. His father has kept him updated on Finn’s amorous adventures, revealing that he has a new girl come by the shop practically every other month.

“I’m going to the Lima Bean,” he tells his father. “Mercedes is in town and wants to meet up.”

Mercedes had moved to Westerville after college, landing a job teaching voice at a music school. She texts Kurt to meet her at the Lima Bean and just the thought of stepping back into the place where he’s made so many memories with Blaine makes his heart hurt.  
But he doesn’t want to make Mercedes drive all the way to the local mall, so he tells himself to stop being silly and texts back that he’ll see her soon.

He spends the drive listening to “Candles” on repeat, and tells himself that this doesn’t make him a masochist.

Kurt’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug the minute Mercedes lays her eyes on him, and she shakes her head as she pulls away.

“Boy,” she says. “It’s been *way* too long! What have you been up to?”

Kurt shrugs, smiling. “Nothing much,” he says. “Still with the Carmichael studio. They’re actually using some of the stuff I designed for the next collection.”

Mercedes claps excitedly. “That’s wonderful, Kurt,” she exclaims. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t be,” Kurt says mirthlessly. “Out of everything I drew, they picked two scarves and a belt buckle to produce. They said the other stuff was too far out, and that I should try to stay within their branding more.”

Mercedes clucks in sympathy. “Well, they don’t know what they’re missing,” she says. “I’ll wear anything you design, hun.”

“Thanks.” Kurt smiles into the bottom of his coffee cup. He’s missed her so much. “Can I get you a refill? I seem to be just guzzling this stuff today.”

Mercedes shakes her head. “Uh, no,” she says, eyes widening slightly. “You go ahead.”

Kurt pays for his coffee, lost in thought as he walks over to the claim counter. Seeing Mercedes again has made him realize how much he’d missed Lima. Maybe he should seriously consider coming back home, maybe offer to help his dad and Finn with the shop.

“Medium drip,” the barista announces crisply, placing his cup on the counter.

Kurt reaches for it just as another hand closes on it, and he looks up to discover that he’s staring into unfathomable hazel eyes.

Hazel eyes that have gone wide with shock, and the blood drains from Kurt’s face as he finds himself face to face with one Blaine Anderson.

“K-kurt,” Blaine stutters. “I… what are you doing here? I thought you were in New York.”

Kurt shakes his head, licking his lips. “I came back for Christmas,” he says. “I got some time off of work… this can’t be a coincidence.”

He whips around, catching Mercedes’ eye across the café but she shakes her head, mouthing “I didn’t do nothing!” at him.

“She didn’t tell me you were coming,” Blaine confirms. “I just, I actually come here quite a bit. It reminds me of… happier times.”

The last part comes out in a bit of a whisper, and for a minute he looks so sad and lost that Kurt almost forgets that it’s Blaine who dumped him.

But then Blaine hands him the cup of coffee, and nods towards Mercedes. “You go ahead,” he says. “I’ll take the next one.”

So Kurt grabs the cup and walks back to his friend, automatically dumping a cream and half a sugar in his drink. Mercedes stares at him incredulously. “What the hell are you doing?” she asks. “Meeting him again? That’s fate, Kurt, and you don’t mess with fate.”

Kurt winces. “He _dumped_ me, remember?” he points out. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. And besides, he probably has a new boyfriend by now.”

Mercedes stares at him wordlessly, shaking her head at how oblivious her friend can be. “Kurt, listen,” she begins. “I love you and all, but if you don’t get your butt in gear and go talk to that man, I’m going to _seriously_ kick your ass. I’ve been keeping tabs over at Westerville and that boy has barely been out of his house. You may think he’s over you, but him living like a hermit with his folks for the past seven months does _not_ tell me that.’

‘Look, I don’t know what went down between you two in New York,” she says. “But you can’t seriously be giving up that easily. Whatever happened to all your talk about courage and standing up for yourself?”

“That was Blaine, actually,” Kurt says, but he’s already getting up. “I’ll call you later.”

“Mmhmm. And you better get a move on—Blaine walked out of here five minutes ago!”

Kurt swears softly under his breath, knocking over his cup in his haste to get away. “Sorry!” he yells, already halfway out the door.  
Mercedes shakes her head, watching him go. “Go get him, boy.”

 

\---------------------------

 

It turns out that Kurt really didn’t have to rush so much, because Blaine’s left his overturned coffee cup and a pile of his clothes on the ground next to Kurt’s car.

He sighs, opening his car door and settling in to wait.

It isn’t long before he spots an all-too familiar head of hair peering out from behind one of the cars across the lot, and Kurt grabs his jacket and heads over.

“Thanks,” Blaine mutters, shrugging on the thick coat. “I don’t suppose you have my shoes, too?”

Kurt purses his lips. “If you want them,” he says. “You’re going to have to get into my car.”

No one is more surprised than him when Blaine follows without complaint, getting into the back so he can put his clothes back on.

There’s dead silence in the car when he’s done, and their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Blaine…”

“Kurt, I…” Blaine says, at exactly the same moment.

They laugh a little awkwardly, but it breaks the tension somehow.

Blaine shrugs. “You go first.”

Kurt turns around, reaching over and taking Blaine’s hand in his. “I _miss_ you,” he says. “I really, really miss you. I’m having trouble working because all I think about it is you, and I still don’t understand why we’re not together. I mean, I know _why_ we’re not together, but you have to have gone back to that time by now. You know it’s not as bad as I inadvertently made it sound… Jeff was still crazy about Nick and he was just really, really drunk and… Blaine. It meant _nothing_ , I swear.”

Kurt is well aware that he’s been babbling, and he makes himself stop, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. “Please reconsider,” he says. “I don’t really have anything more than that. I just… you’re the only thing that can make me happy. Even when you hate me, I’m still in love with you.”

Blaine’s eyes are shiny with tears and he squeezes Kurt’s hand back. “Kurt, I…” he begins, lower lip trembling. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He looks down, afraid to look at Kurt’s face. “You’re right, I’ve been back. I saw the kiss and I know you didn’t mean it,” he says. “To be honest, it was never really about that. The kiss was just an excuse. An excuse to break up with you, to make you hate me so that… so you wouldn’t feel so bad if I died.”

He says the last part so softly that Kurt has to strain to hear it, and when he does, he makes a strangled sound, reaching over to tip Blaine’s chin up. “If you died?” he whispers fearfully. “What do you mean? Have you seen something?”

Blaine nods dumbly. “That night, when you were with Jeff, I travelled,” he says. “I don’t know where, and I don’t know when. But Kurt… I saw myself. I think I was dying, and I was _young_. Not as young as now, but maybe thirty, tops, if even that. I don’t… I don’t think I have a lot of time left, and it’s not fair that I've been putting you through all this.”

Kurt pulls away from him and opens the car door, running out and pulling open Blaine’s door and tumbling in beside him. He pulls Blaine into his arms, embracing him so tightly that Blaine thinks he can feel his ribs creak.

“Is that why?” Kurt whispers angrily, even as he pulls Blaine in for a searing kiss. “Is that why you broke up with me? Because you think it’d hurt me less if you died?”

Blaine nods, returning Kurt’s embrace with equal fervor. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought you’d forget about me, move on. I guess I didn’t think—“

“No, you _didn’t_ ,” Kurt breaks in furiously. He pulls back a little, still clutching Blaine’s arms in a deathgrip. “You weren’t thinking at all. Don’t you get it, Blaine? You’re _it_ for me. There’s no one else, there’s no one I’m ever going to love more than you. And you shouldn’t have run away, you shouldn’t have made that decision for us.”

They’re both crying now, holding each other as close as they possibly can in the cramped backseat. “I don’t care if you’re dying tomorrow,” Kurt says. “It just means that we’ve got to make every second count _today_.”

“And don’t even fucking _think_ about trying to leave me again,” he continues. “I’ll always be there for you, Blaine. I’ll always be waiting.”

And Blaine nods, burying his face in Kurt’s neck, breathing in his lover’s scent.

He knows he’s home.

  


**15\. The Long Goodbye  
2021 (Kurt is 27, Blaine is 27) **

Blaine hurts his leg during one of his jumps. They’re coming much more frequently now, the most he’s ever experienced, and Blaine is forced to leave his job at the coffee shop before they fire him for all his absences. It’s not like it was a big deal, anyway. It’s the only job he can hold down because of his condition, and it doesn’t even require his diploma.

His father calls and tells him not to worry about money—Kurt has told them that the disappearances are getting worse, and Blaine has been trying to stop from fading but can’t. Blaine’s father tells him to hold on, to concentrate, to keep himself grounded into this time. He can do it, if only he manages to stay strong.

Blaine does his best, but he knows that it’s a lost cause. He thanks his father for the financial support, tells Kurt that he wants to move out of the city and into a house.

“I want to have a home,” he says, a faraway look in his eyes. “With a backyard or something, like your old house.”

Kurt studies him. “Maybe we can start looking in the spring,” he says. “I’m up for a promotion at work and I’m worried that moving into the suburbs will mess up my commute time.”

Blaine nods listlessly. “Sure,” he says. He fiddles with the hem of his cardigan. He doesn’t really care about moving, but it gives him something to think about.

“Do you ever think about having kids?” he asks Kurt after a while, and it’s so out of the blue that Kurt looks up from the season brief that he’s reading.

“Uh, I’m not sure how to answer that,” says Kurt, raising a brow. “We’re guys, Blaine, and I’ve never really thought about it.”

Blaine shrugs. “Just thinking,” he says. “About Rachel and her dads. It’s kind of sweet, isn’t it?”

“Okay, stop.” Kurt puts down his folder. “I know things have been hard on you lately, but please don’t think about things like that. If we do have a child, then it’s something we’ll do because we genuinely want one, not because…’

His voice wavers a little, but he clears his throat and presses onward. “Not because you’re scared I’ll be alone when you… when you’re gone.” He reaches out, taking Blaine’s hand in his. “And we don’t know what the future holds yet, so let’s try to stay positive, okay?”

Blaine nods, smiling. “Got it,” he says. He hopes against hope that everything will work out somehow, because the more time slips away from him, the more of it he wishes he had.

He’s changing. He can feel it in his gut. Something’s burning inside of him—speeding up or slowing down and Blaine can’t put his finger on it but he knows it’s going to be bad.

He’s scared.

He tries to tell Kurt, but he doesn’t know how. Instead he changes tactics and asks him to plan a party for them, wanting to see some of their old friends again. It isn’t hard because Rachel’s just an hour away, and they’ve kept in touch with some of their friends from college and Finn’s been talking about visiting them for a while.

Blaine doesn’t add that he thinks it’s going to be his last chance to say goodbye to them.

“Sure, babe,” Kurt says, a little surprised but no displeased. “You don’t want to wait until your birthday? It’s just a few months away.”

Blaine shakes his head, afraid to tell Kurt that he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to keep himself together until then. “Finn’s been wanting to visit for a while,” he says. “Tell him he can crash here and we can throw him a welcome party.”

So Kurt makes the arrangements and Blaine has coffee with Rachel. She’s abandoned her latest beau (he wasn’t gay this time, just married), and she’s talking animatedly about a new musical she’s been signed on to.

“I hope you come see me again,” she gushes. “It’s such a wonderful part. Not the lead this time, but it’s *such* a meaty role. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a Tony nomination for this one.”

Blaine smiles and nods, letting her words wash over him like a balm. He loses himself in the afternoon, watching the sun-dappled trees cast beautiful patterns on the sidewalk.

Rachel kisses him goodbye and promises to be at the party. “I suppose it won’t be so awkward to see Finn again,” she says. “And Kurt’s an excellent party planner.”

Blaine’s leg finally heals completely and the night of the party is filled with laughter and cheer. Kurt embraces him towards the end of it, nuzzling his cheek.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he says. “Finn and Rachel seem to be reconnecting rather well.”

Blaine nods absently. “I did,” he replies. He brushes some hair out of his lover’s eyes. “Thank you, Kurt. I know I don’t say it enough, but… thank you. For everything.”

His voice catches a bit, and Kurt pulls back a bit to stare into his eyes. “Blaine?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

Blaine shrugs. “I think so,” he lies. “Just… just not feeling so good. Maybe I had a little too much wine.”

Kurt lets it pass, giving him another quick peck before going off to help Finn settle down in their spare room. It’s actually their study/music room, but Kurt’s laid down a mattress and told Finn that he can stay for as long as he wants.

Blaine knows that the next few weeks will be tough on Kurt, and he doesn’t want him to be alone. The feeling in his gut gets stronger with each passing day, and he knows that he doesn’t have much time left.

It’s a Sunday when he finally blinks out of time, and Kurt gathers up his clothing and puts it away.

He doesn’t know that the end has begun.

 

**16\. With or Without You  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 16)  
**  
It’s the dead of winter and Kurt feels like his heart is breaking. It’s been seventy-three days since he’s seen Blaine, the longest he’s ever been out of his own time.

He’s frightened for him, the worry growing in his chest like a living thing. He remembers that horrible night four years ago, seeing Blaine covered in bruises and in the throes of possible hypothermia.

“He was twenty-eight,” he mumbles. “Oh my god, he was twenty-eight.”

Kurt’s heart freezes in his chest as he realizes that he’s never seen Blaine older than this. He was twenty-eight when Kurt’s mom died, and he was twenty-eight when he took him to senior prom.

These instances could all explain Blaine’s extended absence, but he hadn’t seemed hurt when Kurt had met him the other times. It was the last time he’d seen him at around that age that worried Kurt, back when he was twenty-three, when Blaine was covered in bruises and shaking on his living room floor.

“Please, please be all right,” he covers his face with his hands, fresh tears beginning to fall. “I don’t know what to do…”

He starts when he feels a soft hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Blaine—young and beautiful-- standing uncertainly behind him.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks, and he finds himself abruptly pulled into a tight embrace.

His face is wrong, it’s far too young to be his Blaine, but right now Kurt doesn’t care. He buries his face in Blaine’s curly hair and breathes in the scent of him, his heart constricting in his chest.

“How old?” he whispers. He pulls back long enough to untie his robe and wrap it around Blaine’s shoulders, rubbing his arms to keep him warm.

Blaine grins. “Sixteen,” he says. “You look good, baby.”

Kurt at twenty-eight doesn’t look that much different from what Blaine knows, though his features have lost the softness of youth and his chest is broader, more muscular now. His undershirt is tight on his torso and his hair is different, too; and Blaine thinks it’s a good look on him. He reminds him of the Calvin Klein models that he and Kurt gush over in private, all hard planes and intense eyes.

Kurt gives him a watery chuckle. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Blaine grins, blushing. “Yeah?” he says shyly. “I’m really glad to see you, too.”

Kurt musters a smile, wiping his eyes. He has to remind himself that this Blaine has just embarked upon their relationship, and he shouldn’t worry him with thoughts of the future. Sixteen-year-old Blaine’s so full of life that it makes Kurt’s heart clench in his chest.

He calls work and tells them that he isn’t coming in tomorrow, not wanting to risk Blaine disappearing when he’s not there. He’s supposed to be working on the next season’s designs anyway, and his creative process has been somewhat stunted.

Blaine pokes around their apartment, casually inspecting the furniture. Kurt directs him to the closet and within minutes, he’s rooting through his future wardrobe, occasionally whistling appreciatively as he unearths a few of his older self’s more interesting pieces. They’re gifts from Kurt mostly, as working in the fashion industry has some perks.

Kurt closes his eyes and tries not to think about where his Blaine is right now, but it’s impossible.

He hopes against hope that he’s all right.

\-------

Blaine stays longer than Kurt expects, and his unexpected presence eases Kurt’s heart somewhat. He forces himself to keep things strictly platonic with the teen, making him take their bed while Kurt sleeps on the couch. He’s filled with guilt because he knows that his Blaine is still out there, lost and frightened, but Kurt is desperate for something to ease the pain inside him.

Blaine himself isn’t exactly making it easy—he treats Kurt like he did when he was sixteen, kissing him unabashedly and cuddling up to him on the couch.

They’re in the middle of watching a DVD of the latest Leonardo di Caprio movie, Blaine chuckling excitedly over the fact that he gets to see a movie that hasn’t even been made yet.

His arm is draped around Kurt’s waist, Kurt’s chin resting lightly on his head. Blaine squirms a bit, reaching up to kiss Kurt when Leo launches into a somewhat boring spiel about the merits of right and wrong.

Kurt allows himself to kiss Blaine back lightly, but he pulls away when Blaine tries to deepen the kiss.

“Enough,” he says. “That’s enough.”

Blaine sticks his tongue out at him playfully, but obediently settles down to finish the movie. Kurt’s arms tighten around him, and he falls into a peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks.

When he wakes up, Blaine’s gone, but his scent lingers on the couch.

Kurt tries very hard not to cry.

He fails.

 

**17\. Can You Let Go?  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is...)  
**  
Another month passes without a single appearance from Blaine, and Kurt thinks he’s starting to go mad with worry.

Blaine’s birthday is in two weeks, and Kurt has spent more days without him than with him this year.

‘How did it get so bad?’ Kurt wonders, rubbing at his eyes. Fatigue permeates every corner of his soul.

His work place has stopped calling and Kurt wonders dimly if he’s been fired. He can’t bring himself to care, the career he’d worked so hard to foster suddenly seeming so inconsequential in light of Blaine’s disappearance.

He goes through motions of life—cooking food, eating it, wiping things down when the dust gets thick enough to smear his fingers. Mostly he reads his journal, poring over the pages over and over, trying to find some hidden clue that’s going to save Blaine.

But there’s nothing there, nothing new, and his childish script at thirteen gushes the same embarrassing prose about meeting the handsome man in his closet every time he reads it.

Each day blends into the next, and he dimly recalls speaking to his father on the phone. He’s saying something about snapping out of his funk and trying to move forward, but Kurt can’t hear him through the deafening beating of his own heart.

Finn tries next, asking Kurt if he wants to come home and help at the shop for a bit. He says that he and Rachel have been Skyping a lot, and that she’s thinking about coming home to see him for a bit. They’d both love it if Kurt would join her.

But Kurt politely tells him that no, he can’t, because he’s waiting for Blaine to come home. He doesn’t know what his family must think has happened, and to be honest, he doesn’t care. All that matters is that he’s waiting for Blaine.

He hears a sound coming from the bedroom and he’s up like a shot, running towards it and throwing the door open.

He catches a flicker of something from the corner of his eye, but when he whirls around, it’s gone.

“Blaine?” he whispers. He steels himself, then repeats the name. Louder. “Blaine?”

There’s a crash from the living room and Kurt grabs a blanket from his bed, running outside again.

Blaine is there, staggering towards him with his hand outstretched. There’s bruising on his back, purple and angry.

“Kurt,” he whispers. “*Kurt.*”

“Stay with me,” Kurt pleads. He races to Blaine’s side but he’s gone before he can touch him. He whirls around, looking frantically around the room. There’s nothing, not a thing, but Kurt knows that it can’t be it, not now, not yet.

“Fight it,” he shouts, praying that Blaine can hear him. “Fight it! Stay with me!”

He kicks the sidetable open and grabs the first aid kit, standing tensely in the center of the room. He remembers, remembers the times he saw Blaine before, trying to catalog his wounds.

He was cold and he was bleeding, he remembers, but why?

What comes next happens very quickly, and Blaine appears and reappears in quick succession at various places around their apartment.

One moment he’s on the couch, holding his knees to his chest and shivering violently. At another he’s in mid-leap, his terrified gaze meeting Kurt’s before he’s gone. The next time he appears, he’s already bleeding, blood dripping from a fresh gash in his arm that he’s clutched to himself.

He’s blinking out of one room and into the next, his body flickering like a light bulb about to go out. Kurt is running from one end of their home to the other, dragging his first aid kit and a thick blanket with him.

“Blaine,” he cries out. “Please, stay with me.”

Blaine appears on their couch, back arched in a parody of pleasure, his teeth clenched as he shudders violently.

“Stay with me,” Kurt sobs, even as he wraps Blaine in the blanket once more, trying desperately to get him warm. He tries to put pressure on the deep gash on Blaine’s arm but his hands are shaking so much that he can’t hold it down for more than a few seconds.

“Shh, shhhh,” he begs as Blaine whimpers at the sting of it. “I’m here, baby, I’m here. Please, just stay here so I can...”

He trails off as Blaine begins to flicker again, tears spilling down his cheeks. He drops the bandage and reaches instead for Blaine’s fingers, squeezing them as tightly as he can. “Love, please, I know it’s hard, but you have to try,” he says. “You have to try and stay here, baby. Stay with me!”

Panicked hazel eyes alight on his, and even as Blaine struggles to comply he’s already half gone. “I love you,” he whispers, and then Kurt’s left with a blood-spattered blanket and numb hands.

Kurt waits for him to reappear somewhere else, but when it becomes clear that he isn’t going to, he falls apart at the seams.

He staggers a few steps backwards before collapsing on the floor. His hands shake as he wraps them around himself, chest heaving with sobs.

“Blaine,” he whispers, feeling his heart—his soul—fly apart.

He barely manages to call Rachel, who drops everything and calls in her understudy for the first time in her entire career. She’s with him in under an hour, eyes widening at the sight of blood stains on the couch and trying to make sense of his words.

“Blaine’s… gone?” she asks, wrapping her arms around him. “How do you… what happened…?”

But Kurt is crying too hard to speak, and in the end she puts him to bed, giving him enough sleeping pills to calm him down. She phones Finn to tell him what’s happened, and as she leaves, she tells Kurt that she’ll be back to check on him in the morning.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt,” she whispers. “I don’t know what’s happened, but… I’m so, so sorry.”

Kurt drifts off in a drugged, fitful sleep, dreaming of Blaine.

He dreams about the first time Blaine kissed him, remembering how beautiful the world had seemed afterwards, how colors had seemed so much brighter.

“There you are,” Dream Blaine whispers. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Kurt tries to hold onto his hand as they traverse down the Dalton hallways, but Blaine moves so quickly while Kurt struggles to catch up.

“Don’t let go,” Kurt gasps. “Blaine!”

But Blaine’s fingers are slipping from his and suddenly Kurt’s left behind. The hall shrinks down to the common room and Blaine’s nowhere to be seen.

Kurt realizes that he’s there alone, and instead of Pavarotti’s casket, his journal is lying on the table.

“You promised you’d always be there for me,” he whispers, finding the passage in the book, caressing his own words.

“And I will be.” The voice is whispered back from somewhere behind him, but he’s pulled into consciousness before he can turn.

The world slowly comes into focus as Kurt wakes up, sunlight streaming through the open curtains. The light is soft and hazy as it throws misshapen patterns onto the floor.

Kurt begins to cry softly, jamming his palms into his lids in an effort to staunch the tears.

“Don’t cry,” a gentle voice whispers behind him. “I’m here.”

And Kurt doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t want to see a younger Blaine right now, doesn’t want to be reminded of the man he’s just lost.

But Blaine’s hands are insistent, and he feels strong, infinitely gentle hands tugging at his waist and rolling him over.

He opens his eyes and meets Blaine’s gaze, touching his smooth, soft cheek. “How old?” he asks.

“Seventeen.” Blaine smiles impishly. “But my birthday’s in a couple of weeks…”

Kurt’s eyes shut in unexpected pain when he hears that, and if he had ever been plagued with his reasoning behind deciding to be intimate with Blaine at seventeen, he now has his answer.

Because the only reason he’d take a Blaine this age to bed would have been because he’d known it would be the last time he ever would.

 

**18\. Palm to Palm  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 17, Blaine is 4, Blaine is 28)  
**  
Blaine makes a small noise of distress when Kurt starts crying again, hands fluttering as he grabs for a box of tissues by the bed. “Kurt?” he asks. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Kurt takes some, swiping at his eyes. “You know I can’t tell you,” he says brokenly. “I’m just… feeing really lost right now.”

And he looks so impossibly sad that Blaine reaches over and embraces him, enveloping him in warmth.

He’s wearing the robe Kurt had left lying at the foot of the bed, and he doesn’t notice the dark red stains on its sleeves and hem. Kurt rubs his cheek against the material, resting lightly against Blaine’s chest.

They stay that way for a long moment, Blaine rubbing slow, comforting circles on Kurt’s back. “Why don’t I make you some breakfast?” he asks. “You always feel better after toast.”

“…okay,” Kurt’s voice is small as Blaine disentangles himself and pads to the kitchen. Kurt gets up, walks to their bathroom and looks in the mirror.

His eyes are bloodshot and swollen from crying, and Kurt splashes water on his pale face. ‘Hold it together,’ he tells himself.

He sheds his clothing and steps into the shower, turning the water so hot that it scalds his flesh. It feels good somehow, but the numb feeling in his chest won’t go away.

He steps out, towelling off and slipping into jeans and a shirt. He’s barefoot when he walks into the kitchen, giving Blaine a small smile.

“Hey.”

Blaine has made eggs to go with their toast, and after having a few bites, Kurt feels almost human again. He doesn’t think he can eat any more without throwing up though, so he tips the rest into Blaine’s plate and watches him eat.

“Is there anything I can do?” Blaine asks. He pointedly eats the rest of Kurt’s toast.

Kurt shakes his head. “Just… just let me look at you, for a bit,” he says. “I… I haven’t seen you in a while, and I miss you.”

Blaine shrugs and finishes his breakfast, putting the dishes in the washer afterwards. He’s never been able to control his disappearances, but the longest he’s ever been gone is a couple of days. He hopes that he hasn’t been leaving this Kurt alone for too long.

“You want to take a walk?” he asks. “I’m not sure if I’ll be leaving soon, but maybe getting some fresh air will make you feel better.”

Kurt can’t think of any reason to say no, so he texts Rachel not to come over, shrugs on his coat, bundles Blaine up warmly, and takes his hand.

The nearest park is a ten-minute walk away, and the children are having a snow day. They sit down on a bench, Blaine resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder.

A woman with a red coat walks past them, tugging a small blond girl with pigtails behind her.

A dog barks in the distance.

Blaine’s brow furrows as if in memory, and he tugs urgently at Kurt’s hand. “I think,” he says. “I think I remember this.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks, standing. “Is everything okay?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, but I think I’ve been here before,” he says. “I can’t really remember so I must have been really young, but… the woman who passed by. I think I recognized her.”

He grabs Kurt’s hand and pulls him along, following the woman in red. The park is large, branching out into several stone paths that lead into snow-covered trees.

They pass by a bench defaced with carvings, and Blaine stops, staring.

“This is it,” he says. “I remember this.”

Ahead of them, they hear the woman and her daughter exclaim in surprise as a young, naked boy barrels past them. He’s the youngest Kurt has ever seen him, and Blaine crouches down and opens his arms.

“Daddy!” The boy doesn’t realize who Blaine really is, only grasps the resemblance and leaps instinctively into safety and warmth. Blaine sheds his outer coat and wraps the boy up securely, seating him on the bench.

“Shh,” he says, snippets of memory coming back to him. “It’s okay, don’t be scared.”

Kurt watches Blaine talking to himself, reassuring the little boy that everything is all right and that he musn’t be frightened.

He’s struck once again about how brave Blaine is, how strong he must have been to weather all the twists life has chosen to set before him.

The woman in the red coat has walked away, leaving the path deserted. Kurt takes a few steps away, wanting to give Blaine a bit of privacy, when he sees movement from the corner of his eye.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he tells Blaine, who nods and holds his younger self’s hand.

Snow crunches beneath Kurt’s boots as he steps off the stone path and into the wooded area. His eyes widen as he sees something ahead, breath catching as he sees a solitary figure leaning heavily against a tree.

As he watches, the figure staggers, falls. He doesn’t get up.

Kurt sprints towards him, hand flying to his mouth as he realizes who it is. He throws his coat off and wraps the other man in it, falling to his knees in the snow.

This is his Blaine. This is *his* Blaine.

“Blaine,” he whispers urgently, trying to will the other man’s eyes to open. Please, please. “Blaine…”

The dark lashes flutter. “Th-there you are,” Blaine whispers weakly. He looks worse than Kurt’s ever seen him, his lips so pale they’re practically blue. “You’re so beautiful…”

“I love you,” Kurt whispers, pressing a kiss to his cold lips. “Please don’t leave me… please don’t leave me, Blaine.”

“Never,” Blaine whispers. “I’ve been looking for you… my entire life…”

His eyes flutter shut, his breath rattles softly in his chest, and Kurt holds him close until he’s gone.

He doesn’t flicker this time, doesn’t blink out of existence. Instead he fades, so slowly at first that Kurt doesn’t realize what’s happening, and it isn’t until the weight of his body starts to get lighter in his arms that Kurt understands.

“Blaine…” he whispers. “You rest now, love…”

He holds him until there’s nothing left to hold.

In the distance, he hears Blaine call his name.

 

**19\. You Move Me  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 17)  
**  
“I wish you’d tell me what was wrong,” Blaine whispers, pressing a kiss on top of Kurt’s head.

They’re back at the apartment, and Kurt hasn’t said a word since Blaine had found him hunched over in the snow. He hadn’t seemed hurt, so Blaine had led him back to the apartment after seeing his younger self safely disappear.

He helps Kurt out of his winter gear and pulls him to their bedroom, sitting him down. Kurt’s eyes, normally a fascinating mix of blue and green, have turned a cloudy grey.

“Baby, I don’t know what to do,” Blaine whispers. “I want to help you. Please tell me how to help you.”

“Be here,” Kurt says, cupping Blaine’s cheek with his hand. “Just stay with me.”

“I will,” Blaine replies earnestly. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that.”

But Kurt only looks sadder when he says that, and he wordlessly pulls him down to kiss him. Their lips meet for the first time during this visit, and the raw emotion behind it takes Blaine’s breath away.

His Kurt’s kisses are sweet and taste like sugar. Blaine loves those kisses, and he thinks that they’re what joy would taste like. But this Kurt’s kisses are long and deep, pain thrumming beneath the surface. These kisses feel like they could consume Blaine, like they could burn him if he let them.

For the first time in his life, Blaine is afraid of what he’s feeling. But he loves Kurt, loves him with all his heart, and if this is what Kurt needs to feel better, then Blaine will give him everything he can.

Their embrace becomes more urgent as Kurt mouths kisses against his lips and neck. It feels like he’s trying to memorize every inch of Blaine’s body, mapping out his skin with his lips and tongue.

“I love you,” Kurt breathes, tears glittering on his lashes. “I love you so much…”

“I love you too,” Blaine replies. He hesitates a little, then tugs at the hem of Kurt’s shirt, helping him slide it off his body. “I want… I want to be with you. Will you let me?”

Kurt bites his lip, then nods wordlessly. He stands to help undress Blaine, and the sunlight paints everything in their room with a golden glow. Blaine thinks that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than Kurt right now, all smooth skin and gold-tinged hair.

He stretches out carefully on the bed, nude, and pulls Kurt gently on top of him. They both gasp at the sensation of bare skin on bare skin, and Blaine marvels at the thought that he could ever feel this way. Everything is so intense, each sense magnified a hundredfold.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, caressing Kurt’s cheek. “I trust you.”

Kurt leans down and kisses him again, his hands everywhere, soft and hard and unbearably gentle all at the same time. Blaine thinks that it’s too much and somehow, wonderfully, not enough, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to cry.

He focuses on how Kurt’s body feels against his, familiar but different at the same time, so achingly beautiful and filled with a strength that his Kurt doesn’t have yet.

Kurt is murmuring endearments against his mouth, reaching into drawer beside them and slicking his fingers in deft movements.

“Are you sure?” Kurt pulls back long enough to ask, even though he already knows the answer.

Blaine nods, eyes wide and trusting, and Kurt touches him carefully, pressing a feverish kiss against his lips. The slick fingers ease their way in-- one first, then another, and Blaine is moaning against Kurt’s mouth, gasping as he *crooks* his fingers and Blaine sees stars. Kurt’s other hand is working his cock, and Blaine thinks that it may be the most intense feeling he’s ever had, his body taut like a strung bow.

Kurt gently adds a third finger and Blaine cries out. “I’m ready,” he manages. “Please… Kurt… I need you…”

And Kurt takes in a shuddering breath, not trusting himself to speak. He settles back on top of Blaine, carefully reaching down to position himself against the warm heat. Blaine’s hard and aching and they both moan when Kurt pushes inside him.

Kurt goes slowly, trying to get Blaine used to the sensation of having him inside. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Blaine nods. “Don’t stop,” he says, letting out a shaky breath. “You feel… I can’t even… Just don’t stop…”

They find their rhythm together slowly, Kurt knowing exactly what Blaine loves (or will grow to love), pressing kisses on Blaine’s neck and murmuring his love in his ear. It’s frighteningly perfect and Blaine didn’t think sex could ever be like this, didn’t realize that he could feel so connected to another human being.

‘It’s Kurt’, he thinks in a daze. It’s always been him, no matter what time or place or age, it’s always been him.

His orgasm crests and peaks inside him, and he comes with a moan, shuddering as Kurt claims his mouth in another searing kiss. The other man follows him soon after, Blaine holding him close as he spasms on top of him.

“I love you,” Kurt whispers against his mouth. “Always.”

They drift off together, sticky and sated, relaxing in a pleasant tangle of limbs.

When Kurt awakens to the pre-dawn light the following morning, Blaine is still there. He remembers that Blaine had said he’d been gone a week that summer, and Kurt realizes that he’s got time.

Not a lot, not nearly enough, but it’s something.

And it’s time enough to say goodbye.

 

**20\. Epilogue  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 17)  
**  
They spend the rest of the week in each other’s arms.

They take walks in the park, holding hands and sitting in cafes and listening to music. Blaine finds his old guitar in the closet and plays aimless tunes and Kurt sings along. Blaine cuts open an orange and Kurt sucks the juice from his fingers, his mouth, his tongue.

They make love tenderly, Kurt teaching him what he can, showing him how close they can be, how good it can get. Blaine is almost overwhelmed at times, but Kurt is there to catch him every single time.

Blaine kisses his hair, his eyes, his cheeks.

He holds him.

He saves him.

On the seventh day, Kurt watches Blaine shave in the mirror. He smiles as he watches Blaine fumble a bit, missing a small spot by his chin.

“Let me,” Kurt says, stepping up behind him. Expertly, he relathers the area, arms coming up around Blaine as he shaves it off. When he’s done, he puts the razor down on the sink and puts his arms around Blaine, breathing in his scent.

Blaine kisses his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, meeting Kurt’s eyes in the mirror. “I had a wonderful week.”

Kurt smiles. “Me, too,” he says, eyes welling up. “You’re… you’re all set to go back now. All clean and pretty.”

Blaine turns around in his arms, chuckling. “I’d take you over high school any day,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Do me a favor, okay?”

Kurt nods, stepping back a bit so Blaine can grab the towel on the rack. “When I’m gone, try not to be so sad.”

“I’ll… I’ll try,” Kurt replies, heart constricting. Blaine can’t know what he’s just said, and Kurt struggles not to break down. “I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you, too,” Blaine says gently. “Always.”

Blaine hands Kurt the towel and he turns to hang it up, smoothing down the soft cloth on the rack. It has Blaine’s initials on it, and he runs the tips of his fingers against the gold letters.

When he turns around, Blaine is gone.

Kurt feels his tears fall freely now, but he lets them go. The sun is rising, a new day is beginning.

In the past, he knows that he and Blaine are loving a lifetime’s worth.

He has no regrets.

#

 

 


	2. Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending.

**15\. The Long Goodbye  
2021 (Kurt is 27, Blaine is 27)**

Blaine hurts his leg during one of his jumps. They’re coming much more frequently now, the most he’s ever experienced, and Blaine is forced to leave his job at the coffee shop before they fire him for all his absences. It’s not like it was a big deal, anyway. It’s the only job he can hold down because of his condition, and it doesn’t even require his diploma.

His father calls and tells him not to worry about money—Kurt has told them that the disappearances are getting worse, and Blaine has been trying to stop from fading but can’t. Blaine’s father tells him to hold on, to concentrate, to keep himself grounded into this time. He can do it, if only he manages to stay strong.

Blaine does his best, but he knows that it’s a lost cause. He thanks his father for the financial support, tells Kurt that he wants to move out of the city and into a house.

“I want to have a home,” he says, a faraway look in his eyes. “With a backyard or something, like your old house.”

Kurt studies him. “Maybe we can start looking in the spring,” he says. “I’m up for a promotion at work and I’m worried that moving into the suburbs will mess up my commute time.”

Blaine nods listlessly. “Sure,” he says. He fiddles with the hem of his cardigan. He doesn’t really care about moving, but it gives him something to think about.

“Do you ever think about having kids?” he asks Kurt after a while, and it’s so out of the blue that Kurt looks up from the season brief that he’s reading.

“Uh, I’m not really sure how to answer that,” says Kurt, raising a brow. “Being who we are, I never really thought about it.”

Blaine shrugs. “Just thinking,” he says. “About Rachel and her dads. It’s kind of sweet, isn’t it? And it’s nice to think that they’re leaving someone so talented behind after they’re gone…”

“Okay, stop.” Kurt puts down his folder. “I know things have been hard on you lately, but please don’t think about things like that. If we do have a child, then it’s something we’ll do because we genuinely want her, not because…’

His voice wavers a little, but he clears his throat and presses onward. “Not because you’re scared I’ll be alone when you… when you’re gone.” He reaches out, taking Blaine’s hand in his. “If, and this is a big if, we ever decide to have children, you’re going to be here and you’re going to be healthy, and you’re going to be right next to me changing dirty diapers.”

He kisses Blaine, cupping his cheek fondly. “Got that?”

Blaine nods, smiling. “Got it,” he says. He hopes against hope that it will happen somehow, someday, because the more time slips away from him, the more of it he wishes he had.

He’s changing. He can feel it in his gut. Something’s burning inside of him—speeding up or slowing down and Blaine can’t put his finger on it but he knows it’s going to be bad.

He’s scared.

He tries to tell Kurt, but he doesn’t know how. Instead he changes tactics and asks him to plan a party for them, wanting to see some of their old friends again. It isn’t hard because Rachel’s just an hour away, and they’ve kept in touch with some of their friends from college and Finn’s been talking about visiting them for a while.

Blaine doesn’t add that he thinks it’s going to be his last chance to say goodbye to them.

“Sure, babe,” Kurt says, a little surprised but no displeased. “You don’t want to wait until your birthday? It’s just a few months away.”

Blaine shakes his head, afraid to tell Kurt that he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to keep himself together until then. “Finn’s been wanting to visit for a while,” he says. “Tell him he can crash here and we can throw him a welcome party.”

So Kurt makes the arrangements and Blaine has coffee with Rachel. She’s abandoned her latest beau (he wasn’t gay this time, just married), and she’s talking animatedly about a new musical she’s been signed on to.

“I hope you come see me again,” she gushes. “It’s such a wonderful part. Not the lead this time, but it’s *such* a meaty role. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a Tony nomination for this one.”

Blaine smiles and nods, letting her words wash over him like a balm. He loses himself in the afternoon, watching the sun-dappled trees cast beautiful patterns on the sidewalk.

Rachel kisses him goodbye and promises to be at the party. “I suppose it won’t be so awkward to see Finn again,” she says. “And Kurt’s an excellent party planner.”

Blaine’s leg finally heals completely and the night of the party is filled with laughter and cheer. Kurt embraces him towards the end of it, nuzzling his cheek.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he says. “Finn and Rachel seem to be reconnecting rather well.”

Blaine nods absently. “I did,” he replies. He brushes some hair out of his lover’s eyes. “Thank you, Kurt. I know I don’t say it enough, but… thank you. For everything.”

His voice catches a bit, and Kurt pulls back a bit to stare into his eyes. “Blaine?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

Blaine shrugs. “I think so,” he lies. “Just… just not feeling so good. Maybe I had a little too much wine.”

Kurt lets it pass, giving him another quick peck before going off to help Finn settle down in their spare room. It’s actually their study/music room, but Kurt’s laid down a mattress and told Finn that he can stay for as long as he wants.

Blaine knows that the next few weeks will be tough on Kurt, and he doesn’t want him to be alone. The feeling in his gut gets stronger with each passing day, and he knows that he doesn’t have much time left.

It’s a Sunday when he finally blinks out of time, and Kurt gathers up his clothing and puts it away.

He doesn’t know that this will be the longest jump Blaine has ever had.

 

 

**16\. With or Without You  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 17)**

It’s the dead of winter and Kurt feels like his heart is breaking. It’s been seventy-three days since he’s seen Blaine, the longest he’s ever been out of his own time.

He’s frightened for him, the worry growing in his chest like a living thing. He remembers that horrible night four years ago, seeing Blaine covered in bruises and in the throes of possible hypothermia.

“He was twenty-eight,” he mumbles. “Oh my god, he was twenty-eight.”

Kurt’s heart freezes in his chest as he realizes that he’s never seen Blaine older than this. He was twenty-eight when Kurt’s mom died, and he was twenty-eight when he took him to senior prom.

These instances could all explain Blaine’s extended absence, but he hadn’t seemed hurt when Kurt had met him the other times. It was the last time he’d seen him at around that age that worried Kurt, back when he was twenty-three, when Blaine was covered in bruises and shaking on his living room floor.

“Please, please be all right,” he covers his face with his hands, fresh tears beginning to fall. “I don’t know what to do…”

He starts when he feels a soft hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Blaine—beautiful and strong-- standing uncertainly behind him.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks, and he finds himself abruptly pulled into a tight embrace.

His face is wrong, it’s far too young to be his Blaine, but right now Kurt doesn’t care. He buries his face in Blaine’s curly hair and breathes in the scent of him, his heart constricting in his chest.

“How old?” he whispers. He pulls back long enough to untie his robe and wrap it around Blaine’s shoulders, rubbing his arms to keep him warm.

Blaine grins. “Seventeen,” he says. “Well, seventeen until the next couple weeks, anyway. You look good, baby.”

Kurt at twenty-eight doesn’t look that much different from what Blaine knows, though his features have lost the softness of youth and his chest is broader, more muscular now. His undershirt is mouth-wateringly tight on his torso. His hair is different, too, and Blaine thinks it’s a good look on him. He reminds Blaine of the Calvin Klein models that he and Kurt gush over in private, all hard planes and intense eyes.

Kurt gives him a watery chuckle. “I think I vaguely remember you telling me about this,” he says. “You might be staying a while.”

Blaine perks up, beaming. “Really?” he says. “Awesome! Kurt’s not going to believe I’m vacationing in the future!”

Kurt musters a smile, wiping his eyes. He doesn’t want to worry him, and seventeen-year-old Blaine’s so full of life that it makes Kurt’s heart clench in his chest.

He calls work and tells them that he isn’t coming in tomorrow, not wanting to risk Blaine disappearing when he’s not there. He’s supposed to be working on the next season’s designs anyway, and his creative process has been somewhat stunted.

Blaine’s rooting through his wardrobe, occasionally whistling appreciatively as he unearths a few of his older self’s more interesting pieces. They’re gifts from Kurt mostly, as working in the fashion industry has some perks.

Kurt closes his eyes and tries not to think about where his Blaine is right now, but it’s impossible.

He’s worried sick.

\-------

Kurt makes it all the way to Blaine’s seventh and final night there before he caves, realizing that this is pretty much the moment that he’d gotten so angry about during their prom night.

He’s tried desperately to keep things semi-platonic with Blaine, making him take their bed while Kurt sleeps on the couch. He’s filled with guilt because he knows that his Blaine is still out there, lost and frightened, but Kurt is desperate for something to ease the pain inside him.

Blaine himself isn’t exactly making it easy—he treats Kurt like he did when he was seventeen, kissing him unabashedly and cuddling up to him on the couch.

They’re in the middle of watching a DVD of the latest Leonardo di Caprio movie, Blaine chuckling excitedly over the fact that he gets to see a movie that hasn’t even been made yet.

His arm is draped around Kurt’s waist, Kurt’s chin resting lightly on his head. Blaine squirms a bit, reaching up to kiss Kurt when Leo launches into a somewhat boring spiel about the merits of right and wrong.

Kurt allows himself to kiss Blaine back, trying to pull away when Blaine deepens the kiss. He finds that he can’t, and suddenly he’s got a lapful of Blaine and he’s somewhat surprised to note that his hands are cupping Blaine’s rear and wow. He’s forgotten how enthusiastic teenagers can be.

Blaine pulls back, his lips kiss-swollen and slightly red. He’s blushing. “Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt whispers, running his hand through Blaine’s hair. “I think… I think it is.”

He reaches up and kisses Blaine again, and Blaine molds himself to Kurt, pressing his body against him so there are no spaces left between.

Kurt breaks off with a small gasp, eyes shining in the dim light. “We should move,” he says. “To the bed.”

And Blaine swallows hard, because Kurt’s meaning is unmistakable. He moves off of Kurt’s lap, mouth going dry as Kurt takes his hand.

Kurt had insisted on sleeping on the couch the past few nights, pointing out that Blaine was still seventeen and therefore underage. Blaine had pouted prettily but complied, realizing that his boyfriend’s morality is very much a part of who he is. As frustrating as it is for Blaine, it’s one of the reasons that he loves him so very much.

When all is said and done, however, Blaine is a teenaged boy with a healthy libido. He’s done things with his Kurt, things that made Blaine blush to think about, and going the past week without anything has been driving him nuts.

Truth be told, as much as he liked this older Kurt, he’d been missing his own Kurt quite a bit. At least his Kurt understood what it was like to be seventeen and on edge all the time, and their forays into mutual gratification had been *wonderful*.

“Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly a bit nervous, hyper aware of the fact that he and Kurt are in their bedroom and that he’ll probably have to wait years before he finishes the Leo movie.

He’s still not sure what prompted this change of heart, but he knows that Kurt spends a lot of time staring into space with a worried look on his face. It bothers him.

Kurt nods. “It’s actually already happened,” he explains, looking away. “I guess… I guess I was just being stubborn about it. As usual.”

And he looks so lost and sad that Blaine reaches over and embraces him, enveloping him in warmth.

“I wish you’d tell me what was wrong,” Blaine whispers, pressing a kiss on top of Kurt’s head. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that.”

But Kurt only looks sadder when he says that, and he wordlessly pulls him down to kiss him and it takes Blaine’s breath away.

His Kurt’s kisses are sweet and taste like sugar. Blaine loves those kisses, and he thinks that they’re what joy would taste like. But this Kurt’s kisses are long and deep, raw emotion thrumming beneath the surface. These kisses feel like they could consume Blaine, like they could burn him if he let them.

For the first time in his life, Blaine is afraid of what he’s feeling. But he loves Kurt, loves him with all his heart, and if this is what Kurt needs to feel better, then Blaine will give him everything he can.

He gasps as Kurt kisses a wet path down his chest, moaning as he takes him in hand. Dimly, he wonders where on earth Kurt learned how to do *this*, and then he realizes (somewhat hysterically) that they’d probably learned it all from each other.

Dimly, he realizes that their clothes are off and between Kurt’s mouth and his hands, he’s not entirely sure when it all happened. Then Kurt goes down on him and he promptly loses coherent thought, suddenly not caring how he’s naked and on his lover’s bed. His hips are arching up into the wet heat, teeth biting down on his lower lip so hard that he’s sure he’s going to bleed.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers. “Kurt… please.”

Kurt reaches up and kisses him again, his hands everywhere, soft and hard and unbearably gentle all at the same time. Blaine thinks that it’s too much and somehow, wonderfully, not enough, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to cry.

He focuses on how Kurt’s body feels against his, familiar but different at the same time, so achingly beautiful and filled with a strength that his Kurt doesn’t have yet.

Kurt is murmuring platitudes against his mouth, reaching into drawer beside them and slicking his fingers in deft movements.

“Is this okay?” Kurt asks, even though he already knows the answer. He knew a long time ago that this was going to be it. It’s already happened in his past, and he knows that Blaine is his tonight.

Blaine nods, eyes wide and trusting, and Kurt touches him carefully, pressing a feverish kiss against his lips. The slick fingers ease their way in-- one first, then two, and Blaine is moaning against Kurt’s mouth, gasping as he *crooks* his fingers and Blaine sees stars. Kurt’s other hand is working his cock, and Blaine thinks that it may be the most intense feeling he’s ever had, his body taut like a strung bow.

Kurt gently adds a third finger and Blaine cries out, spasming as he orgasms onto his own stomach, fingers clutching at Kurt convulsively.

“I love you,” he moans. “Oh my god, that was… I just…”

Kurt smiles, kisses him as he reaches for a small towel and wipes him down with it.

“It’s time to turn over, love…” Kurt is whispering now, gently pulling at Blaine’s hips. He moans at the contact, momentarily incoherent.

“Wha—why?” he stutters.

Kurt kisses him softly. “Because it’s your first time,” he says. “It will be easier this way.”

“But I want to see you,” Blaine says. “I want to see your face wh-when you’re inside me.”

Kurts hisses, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how amazing you look right now?” he asks. “God, Blaine, I don’t know if I can…”

He cuts off when Blaine reaches up to kiss him. “It’s okay,” he says. “I trust you. And I want our first time to be like this. Face to face, okay?”

And Kurt nods wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. He settles back on top of Blaine, carefully reaching down to position himself against the warm heat. Blaine’s already starting to get hard again, (being seventeen has its advantages), and they both moan when Kurt pushes inside him.

Kurt goes slowly, trying to get Blaine used to the sensation of having him inside. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Blaine nods. “Don’t stop,” he says, letting out a shaky breath. “You feel… amazing.”

They find their rhythm together slowly, Kurt knowing exactly what Blaine loves (or will grow to love), pressing kisses on Blaine’s neck and murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. It’s frighteningly perfect and Blaine didn’t think sex could ever be like this, didn’t realize that he could feel so connected to another human being.

‘It’s Kurt’, he thinks in a daze. It’s always been him, no matter what time or place or age, it’s always been him.

His orgasm crests and peaks inside him, and he comes with a moan, shuddering as Kurt claims his mouth in another searing kiss. The other man follows him soon after, Blaine holding him close as he spasms on top of him.

“I love you,” Kurt whispers against his mouth. “Always.”

They drift off together, sticky and sated, relaxing in a pleasant tangle of limbs.

When Kurt awakens to the pre-dawn light the following morning, Blaine is gone.

He has no regrets.

 

**17\. Can You Let Go?  
2022 (Kurt is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 28, Blaine is 28)**

Another month passes without a single appearance from Blaine, and Kurt thinks he’s starting to go mad with worry.

Blaine’s birthday is in two weeks, and Kurt has spent more days without him than with him this year.

‘How did it get so bad?’ Kurt wonders, rubbing at his eyes. Fatigue permeates every corner of his soul.

His work place has stopped calling and Kurt wonders dimly if he’s been fired. He can’t bring himself to care, the career he’d worked so hard to foster suddenly seeming so inconsequential in light of Blaine’s disappearance.

He goes through motions of life—cooking food, eating it, wiping things down when the dust gets thick enough to smear his fingers. Mostly he reads his journal, poring over the pages over and over, trying to find some hidden clue that’s going to save Blaine.

But there’s nothing there, nothing new, and his childish script at thirteen gushes the same embarrassing prose about meeting the handsome man in his closet every time he reads it.

Each day blends into the next, and he dimly recalls speaking to his father on the phone. He’s saying something about snapping out of his funk and trying to move forward, but Kurt can’t hear him through the deafening beating of his own heart.

Finn tries next, asking Kurt if he wants to come home and help at the shop for a bit. He says that he and Rachel have been Skyping a lot, and that she’s thinking about coming home to see him for a bit. They’d both love it if Kurt would join her.

But Kurt politely tells him that no, he can’t, because he’s waiting for Blaine to come home. He doesn’t know what his family must think has happened, and to be honest, he doesn’t care. All that matters is that he’s waiting for Blaine.

He hears a sound coming from the bedroom and he’s up like a shot, running towards it and throwing the door open.

He catches a flicker of something from the corner of his eye, but when he whirls around, it’s gone.

“Blaine?” he whispers. He steels himself, then repeats the name. Louder. “Blaine?”

There’s a crash from the living room and Kurt grabs a blanket from his bed, running outside again.

Blaine is there, staggering towards him with his hand outstretched. There’s bruising on his back, purple and angry.

“Kurt,” he whispers. “*Kurt.*”

“Stay with me,” Kurt pleads. He races to Blaine’s side but he’s gone before he can touch him. He whirls around, looking frantically around the room. There’s nothing, not a thing, but Kurt knows that it can’t be it, not now, not yet.

“Fight it,” he shouts, praying that Blaine can hear him. “Fight it! Stay with me!”

He kicks the sidetable open and grabs the first aid kit, standing tensely in the center of the room. He remembers, remembers the times he saw Blaine before, trying to catalog his wounds.

He was cold and he was bleeding, he remembers, but why?

What comes next happens very quickly, and Blaine appears and reappears in quick succession at various places around their apartment.

One moment he’s on the couch, holding his knees to his chest and shivering violently. At another he’s in mid-leap, his terrified gaze meeting Kurt’s before he’s gone. The next time he appears, he’s already bleeding, blood dripping from a fresh gash in his arm that he’s holding clutched to himself.

He’s blinking out of one room and into the next, his body flickering like a light bulb about to go out. Kurt is running from one end of their home to the other, dragging his first aid kit and a thick blanket with him.

“Blaine,” he cries out. “Please, stay with me.”

Blaine appears on their couch, back arched in a parody of pleasure, his teeth clenched as he shudders violently.

“Stay with me,” Kurt sobs, even as he wraps Blaine in the blanket once more, trying desperately to get him warm. He tries to put pressure on the deep gash on Blaine’s arm but his hands are shaking so much that he can’t hold it down for more than a few seconds.

“Shh, shhhh,” he begs as Blaine whimpers at the sting of it. “I’m here, baby, I’m here. Please, just stay here so I can...”

He trails off as Blaine begins to flicker again, tears spilling down his cheeks. He drops the bandage and reaches instead for Blaine’s fingers, squeezing them as tightly as he can. “Love, please, I know it’s hard, but you have to try,” he says. “You have to try and stay here, baby. Stay with me!”

Panicked hazel eyes alight on his, and even as Blaine struggles to comply he’s already half gone. “I love you,” he whispers, and then Kurt’s left with a blood-spattered blanket and numb hands.

Kurt waits for him to reappear somewhere else, but when it becomes clear that he isn’t going to, he falls apart at the seams.

He staggers a few steps backwards before collapsing on the floor. His hands shake as he wraps them around himself, chest heaving with sobs.

“Blaine,” he whispers, feeling his heart—his soul—fly apart. He barely manages to call Rachel, who drops everything and calls in her understudy for the first time in her career. She’s with him in under an hour, eyes widening at the sight of blood stains on the couch and trying to make sense of his words.

“Blaine’s… gone?” she asks, wrapping her arms around him. “How do you… what happened…?”

But Kurt is crying too hard to speak, and in the end she puts him to bed, giving him a couple of sleeping pills to calm him down. She phones Finn to tell him what’s happened, and as she leaves, she tells Kurt that she’ll be back to check on him in the morning.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt,” she whispers. “I don’t know what’s happened, but… I’m so, so sorry.”

Kurt drifts off in a drugged, fitful sleep, dreaming of Blaine.

He dreams about the first time Blaine kissed him, remembering how beautiful the world had seemed afterwards, how colors had seemed so much brighter.

“There you are,” Dream Blaine whispers. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Kurt tries to hold onto his hand as they traverse down the Dalton hallways, but Blaine moves so quickly while Kurt struggles to catch up.

“Don’t let go,” Kurt gasps. “Blaine!”

But Blaine’s fingers are slipping from his and suddenly Kurt’s left behind. The hall shrinks down to the common room and Blaine’s nowhere to be seen.

Kurt realizes that he’s there alone, and instead of Pavarotti’s casket, his journal is lying on the table.

“You promised you’d always be there for me,” he whispers, finding the passage in the book, caressing his own words.

“And I will be.” The voice is whispered back from somewhere behind him, but consciousness pulls him into waking before he can turn.

The world slowly comes into focus as Kurt wakes up, dried tears streaking his cheeks. Sunlight is streaming through the open curtains, soft and hazy as they throw misshapen patterns onto the floor.

Kurt begins to cry softly, jamming his palms into his lids in an effort to staunch the tears.

“Don’t cry,” a gentle voice whispers behind him. “I’m here.”

And Kurt doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t want to see a younger Blaine right now, doesn’t want to be reminded of the man he’s just lost.

But Blaine’s hands are insistent, and he feels strong, infinitely gentle hands closing around his waist and rolling him over.

He opens his eyes and meets Blaine’s gaze, eyes widening as he takes in the stubble, the haircut, the livid scar on his arm where a gaping wound was situated just last night.

“B-blaine?” Kurt whispers, fearfully. “Are you…?”

“It’s me,” Blaine whispers, kissing him gently. “It’s okay, Kurt. I’m back. I’m home.”

And Kurt is throwing himself in Blaine’s arms, sobbing openly now, his arms wrapped in a death grip around his lover’s neck.

“H-how?” He stammers, but when Blaine tries to respond, he just tightens his grip and kisses him again and again and again. “Tell me later,” he says. “It doesn’t matter.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “All that matters is that you’re here.”

****  
18\. Life Goes On  
2034 (Blaine is 28, Kurt is 40, Blaine is 40) 

Blaine’s lying in the middle of a frozen clearing, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. The gash is deep and wide, and he’s weak from the continuous jumps and the loss of blood. He’s been spending less and less time in each place, starting with meeting Kurt at seven before leapfrogging back and forth in his timeline. One moment he’s meeting Kurt’s teddy bear, the next he sees his parents kiss for the first time at Westerville Park.

For days he’s shunted around, not minding so much as the hours he spends are not entirely unpleasant. He takes Kurt to prom and it’s exactly how Kurt recounted it in his journal; he disappears right before the end.

But then things take a turn for the worse, and he’s jumping through time so quickly that he’s lost track of how long he’s been gone in his own time. He’s whisked away from one locale to the other, moments blurring together like sand falling through an hourglass.

He lands here, in a forest in the middle of nowhere—a place that he remembers from an adolescent camping trip with his father—except it’s the wrong time and it’s so, so cold. There’s nothing for miles around and Blaine knows this, and he wraps his arms around himself and staggers out of the clearing, trying to shield himself from the cold behind a tree.

It’s the longest hour that Blaine has ever experienced, snow beginning to fall as he practically falls down, desperately trying to will himself to disappear.

Night has begun to fall and Blaine knows that he’s not going to be able to survive a night out here, not in this cold, and he wonders if this is how it’s to end for him. He watches his breath spiral out of his mouth and dissipate into the air.

‘Not like this,’ he thinks desperately. ‘I want to see Kurt one last time.’

His arm hasn’t stopped bleeding. He’s been holding it for hours (days? weeks?), trying to put pressure on it but it seems a hopeless task. He lets it fall to his side, closing his eyes and repeating Kurt’s name over and over like a mantra.

‘Please,’ he thinks, begging every deity he can think of as well as fate in general. ‘Take me to Kurt.’

And just like that, he’s gone.

\------------

Kurt pushes his sunglasses up on his nose, trying to shield his face from the glare of the hot sun. He knew that he should never have agreed to this camping trip. Going rustic has never been his strong suit, and he hates the way his new walking shorts make his legs look. Blaine, on the other hand, has been acting insufferably at ease all day, and their daughter hasn’t been much better.

“Madeline Hummel Anderson,” Kurt calls, pursing his lips. “Get down from that tree this instant!”

“Aww, dad,” Maddy sighs, hand freezing in mid-air as she grabs for a higher branch to climb.

Kurt knows that she fancies herself quite the outdoorswoman, and like her other father, has the courage of a particularly ferocious lion. “No buts, miss,” he says. “That tree is way too big for you to climb. Why don’t you try the one daddy’s in?”

“But I’m seven years old!” Maddy whines but obeys, clambering down. She eyes the tree that Blaine is seated against, casually reading a book. “And that tree’s for babies.”

Blaine raises a brow. “Are you calling me a baby?” he asks. He’s perched on the lowest branch, legs casually stretched out before him.

“Yeah,” Maddy laughs, running over and clambering onto his lap. Blaine lets her sit, resting his chin on top of her curly black hair.

Kurt is struck by how similar they look, and even though they don’t technically know which of them is her biological dad, he doesn’t think there’s any question when he sees so much of a resemblance between them. The only thing Maddy has of her surrogate mother is her eyes, and they’re similar enough to Kurt’s that he thinks she looks like the best of both of them.

He gets an unexpected lump in his throat as he watches the almost perfect tableau before him. There were moments in their past when he wasn’t sure they would make it, and he considers every day they have together as a gift.

“Shouldn’t we put the tent up?” he asks Blaine. “It looks like it’s going to be dark soon.”

Blaine looks up, shielding his eyes against the sun. “I think we still have a little time,” he says. “Give it a few more minutes. Besides, it’s a beautiful day… maybe you should take a walk?”

Kurt sighs. “Fine,” he says. “But if I get lost, you better come when I scream for help.”

“Deal,” Blaine laughs, returning to his book.

Kurts walks out of the clearing, kicking at some twigs and rocks. It really is a beautiful place. Not exactly how he’d want to spend his summer, but it had been a majority vote and he’d ended up overruled.

He comes by a stream, and he sits down beside it gingerly, lowering himself to the ground. There are worse things, he thinks, than being in a beautiful place with the two people you love most.

The past few years with Blaine had been somewhat easier on them both. The fits had seemed to normalize again, occurring with the same frequency as they had before Blaine’s twenty-eight year. Blaine had also been traveling forwards more often, and to somewhat easier climates.

Blaine won’t really elaborate, but one day he comes home with a wide smile. When Kurt asks him what’s up, he simply shrugs and says what a beautiful name ‘Madeline’ is.

Kurt hears a soft splash of water some distance away, and he straightens, wondering if he should investigate the sound.

“…Kurt…” The voice is weak, but it carries.

His breath catching in his throat, Kurt runs down the bank and leaps into the stream, grabbing at the deathly white hand that’s barely hanging onto the shore.

“Blaine,” Kurt gasps, and suddenly he realizes exactly why Blaine had pushes so hard for this trip to happen. He’d known. He’d known that this was where he would end up after his series of incidents years ago.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers. “Always knew… you’d find me.”

And he passes out in Kurt’s arms, the other man grunting slightly under his weight. “Blaine!” Kurt yells, struggling not to fall over with the deadweight in his arms. “BLAINE! Help me!!”

In the end, Kurt is glad that Blaine had persuaded him not to pitch the nine hundred dollar tent after all. In their haste to get the younger man to the hospital, they’d probably have left it behind if it had been up.

Kurt rides in the back, holding Blaine close to his chest as his Blaine drives, Maddy riding shotgun. “Daddy is that—“ she begins, but Kurt shushes her.

“I’ll explain later, sweetie,” he says, wrapping his coat around Blaine tighter and trying to will some warmth into his body. “Right now, daddy has to concentrate, okay?”

Maddy nods, eyes wide. They reach the hospital and Kurt rushes with Blaine inside, her daddy hanging back with her in the car. “It’s all right, Maddy,” he says. “It’s best if we leave daddy alone with him for a bit. And hospitals aren’t for little girls.”

“Daddy, is that… you?” Maddy asks hesitantly, reaching out to grab her dad’s hand.

Blaine looks at his daughter for a moment, then nods slowly. “Honey, there’s something you need to know about me…”

\----------------------

It isn’t long before Blaine’s arm is stitched up and he’s on the mend. He has to stay at the hospital for a few days, and Kurt never leaves his side.

Blaine stays with their daughter, remembering how things occur and doing his best not to get in the way. He checks in on Kurt every day, bringing him changes of clothing and some food.

On the twelfth day, the hospital discharges Blaine and Kurt brings him to their home. It’s a beautiful little house, with white picket fences and a backyard. The younger man is entranced.

Blaine helps him to their guestroom, and Kurt goes to Maddy and tells him that she can meet her younger dad if she promises to behave.

Maddy, having been briefed on how you can sometimes run into yourself when you time travel, nods. Kurt marvels at how easily young minds can grasp such complicated concepts, but he supposes that it boils down to trusting the Unknown.

She solemnly shakes Blaine’s hand, clambering up the bed to give him a peck on the cheek. Blaine looks so overwhelmed that Kurt takes pity on him and reaches out to squeeze his hand. The older Blaine watches this from the door, emotions roiling in his chest.

He knows exactly how the younger man is feeling (hadn’t he been him just a handful of years ago?). It’s hope, plain and simple, and it’s a light at the end of a tunnel that he hadn’t known he’d ever get out of.

Blaine meets his younger self’s eyes.

“Thank you,” they both mouth. And they smile.

\-------------------

  
“He’ll be gone tomorrow.” Blaine says out of the blue, putting the last of their dinner dishes into the washer.

“How do you know?” Kurt asks, then laughs. “Stupid question.”

Blaine smiles. “It’s been a hell of a month,” he says. “Maddy took it a lot better than I thought she would.”

“She’s a smart girl,” Kurt says fondly. “Comes from having such a smart dad.”

“Thanks.” Blaine grins, but Kurt sticks his tongue out at him.

“I meant me!” He chuckles as Blaine leans over to tickle him, fingers dancing over his partner’s still slim hips.

Kurt kisses the tip of Blaine’s nose, casually winding his arms around his waist. “I love you,” he says. “I honestly don’t know how I would’ve survived if you hadn’t…”

He lets out a shaky breath, leaning his head against Blaine as they embrace. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“It’s all right,” Blaine says. “I’m all right, thanks to you. I never had a chance to thank you until now, but… you saved my life.”

He kisses the man before him, brushing his lips against his neck. “You are everything to me,” he says. “I always thought I’d be there for you, but it turns out that it was you who saved me.”

Kurt shakes his head. “No,” he says, stealing a soft kiss. His eyes turn to the young man sleeping soundly on the couch, Maddy curled up at his side. His eyes twinkle. “We saved each other.”

Maddy stirs in her sleep, calling for him to carry her to bed and Kurt laughs, pressing another kiss to Blaine’s lips before stepping away.

Blaine smiles. Their life isn’t perfect, not by a long shot, and though his disappearances have become fewer and farther between, there are still some nights when Kurt stays up late, fretting and wondering when Blaine will return.

Blaine always tells him not to worry.

Kurt is home to him, and he’ll always find his way back.

**Epilogue  
2067 (Kurt is 73, Blaine is 73)**

The last time Blaine travels is when he’s seventy-three.

He’s sitting by Kurt’s bedside, holding his lover’s hand and watching as the clock ticks past three. It’s his second bypass and the doctor’s aren’t hopeful. They’d done what they could with surgery, but Kurt’s heart has never been strong.

Blaine closes his eyes briefly, running his free hand through silver hair.

Maddy comes back in with two cups of coffee, hands him one and resumes sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

“Any change?” she asks, and Blaine shakes his head.

“They don’t know if he’s going to wake up this time,” Blaine says. He sips his coffee, liquid sliding down his throat smoothly.

After a while, he says: “We did all right, didn’t we?” he reaches across Kurt and takes his daughter’s hand. “You turned out to be such a good girl.”

Madeline nods slowly. “Of course I did,” she replies. “I have the two best dads in the world.”

Her eyes widen as the hand in hers begins to fade, the pressure against her fingers loosening. “Daddy?” she whispers. “Don’t go…”

But Blaine’s already half gone, his smile the last thing to fade. “You’re beautiful, Maddy,” he says. “Don’t ever forget that we love you.”

This is the last time Madeline ever speaks to her father, and Kurt slips away hours later.

She sobs as her husband and sons arrive at the hospital, their arms encircling her tightly.

“It’s all right,” David whispers, pressing a kiss into her dark hair. “It’s all right, baby. I’m here.”

That night, unable to sleep, Maddy travels for the first time in her life. As Blaine’s biological daughter, her fathers had always been afraid that she’d have the same… gifts… that he did. But she’d never manifested any abilities before this, and they’d chalked it up to good luck that she didn’t have to deal with Blaine’s situation.

So when she tumbles onto the floor of a hospital she’s never been in, naked and cold, she can only assume that this is some sort of fluke.

There’s a hospital gown folded on the empty bed, and Maddy puts it on. She remembers her father telling her that he’s drawn to places with some sort of significance to his timeline, and she wonders what this place could possibly mean to her.

It’s not even the same hospital they’d brought her dad to in New York. She pads out into the hall, barefoot, eyes widening as she sees the sign above the nurse’s station.

‘The Lima Cross’, it says, in bold letters.

“Excuse me,” she says, grabbing at a passing nurse. “This is going to sound crazy but… what year is this?”

The nurse frowns. “It’s 1994,” she says. “Are you okay, miss?”

Maddy recoils. *1994? But that’s when…* She pulls away, running down the hall, looking around wildly. The nurse starts after her, calling for an orderly, but Maddy manages to pull away, turning a corner and… There.

Maternity.

Maddy skids to a halt, pressing her hands against the glass. “Wait,” she says, tugging her arm away from the newly arrived orderlies. “Please, my family’s in there.”

She hears the unmistakable sound of her father’s voice, singing the soft lullaby that she’s heard a thousand times before.

 _Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,_  
Go to sleepy little baby.  
When you wake, you shall have cake,  
And all the pretty little horses,  
  
Tears spring to her eyes as she beholds her father tenderly holding a newborn Kurt in his arms, eyes shining with love. He’s wearing a hospital gown and a robe, standing barefoot in the middle of the ward. __

 _Black and bay, dapple and grey,_  
Coach and six little horses,  
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,  
Go to sleepy little baby.  
  
Blaine carefully puts the baby back in his basket, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. Then he crumples to the ground, not disappearing like Maddy has seen him do a dozen times before. He doesn’t get up. __

The orderlies release her and rush into the room to assist, but Maddy knows that her father is already gone.

“Go be together,” she whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hopes that somewhere, in whatever place that exists beyond time, they’re happy.

She raises a hand to her face, watching as it begins to flicker, lamp-like in the harsh white hall. She disappears seconds later, going back to her own life, her own time.

Her boys are waiting for her.

And she bids her fathers a final goodbye.

#


End file.
